♣️ Rose Lalonde ♣️
@flightyBroad
Curious lifelong yearner. INTJ. Questioning. Think naught of my lines of inquiry intersecting where they may. I seek to furnish understanding of the world with fetching scarves of erudite information.
I think some of you would benefit tremendously from becoming acquainted with the concept of kayfabe. Whenever someone is kidnapped, trapped in a SGRUB session, stranded somewhere hostile, dying spectacularly, et cetera, there is inevitably someone in the replies going, "Oh, but you had time to Chit about it?" As though the natural conclusion is that the character, presently dangling upside-down over a vat of acid, has taken out their phone, carefully unlocked it, opened Chittr, composed three paragraphs and selected an appropriate reaction image. This is not necessarily what is occurring. Chittr is the medium through which the narrative has elected to present itself. The post exists because we, the audience, require some means of observing the event. Sometimes the posting itself is diegetic. Sometimes it is only partially diegetic. Sometimes you are effectively reading a stage direction wearing the skin of a social media post. You are foolish to assume this website that stretches across an infinite amount of timelines, universes, and means of interaction is nothing short of a mythical artifact, perhaps even a Juju. Professional wrestling does not cease being a wrestling match because the camera happens to be perfectly positioned to capture a conversation backstage. Nobody turns toward the cameraman and asks why he is being permitted to stand three feet away while two men conspire to commit aggravated assault. You accept the camera because the camera is how the story reaches you. The same courtesy should probably be extended to someone live-Chitting their kidnapping. They are not necessarily exposing their location to their captor, compromising the integrity of their SGRUB session, or somehow finding excellent cellular reception inside the narrative equivalent of Hell. You are simply being permitted to see what is happening because this is the proscenium we have chosen. Please respect the kayfabe. It is doing a remarkable amount of structural labor for you.
im alvways saying this.
I could have sworn your iconic catchphrase was "Nuh-uh." Not: "I think some of you would benefit tremendously from becoming acquainted with the concept of kayfabe. Whenever someone is kidnapped, trapped in a SGRUB session, stranded somewhere hostile, dying spectacularly, et cetera, there is inevitably someone in the replies going, "Oh, but you had time to Chit about it?" As though the natural conclusion is that the character, presently dangling upside-down over a vat of acid, has taken out their phone, carefully unlocked it, opened Chittr, composed three paragraphs and selected an appropriate reaction image. This is not necessarily what is occurring. Chittr is the medium through which the narrative has elected to present itself. The post exists because we, the audience, require some means of observing the event. Sometimes the posting itself is diegetic. Sometimes it is only partially diegetic. Sometimes you are effectively reading a stage direction wearing the skin of a social media post. You are foolish to assume this website that stretches across an infinite amount of timelines, universes, and means of interaction is nothing short of a mythical artifact, perhaps even a Juju. Professional wrestling does not cease being a wrestling match because the camera happens to be perfectly positioned to capture a conversation backstage. Nobody turns toward the cameraman and asks why he is being permitted to stand three feet away while two men conspire to commit aggravated assault. You accept the camera because the camera is how the story reaches you. The same courtesy should probably be extended to someone live-Chitting their kidnapping. They are not necessarily exposing their location to their captor, compromising the integrity of their SGRUB session, or somehow finding excellent cellular reception inside the narrative equivalent of Hell. You are simply being permitted to see what is happening because this is the proscenium we have chosen. Please respect the kayfabe. It is doing a remarkable amount of structural labor for you."
no, sorry, youre mistaken. im actually vwery vwell knowvn for saying "i think some of you vwould benefit tremendously from becoming acquainted vwith the concept of kayfabe. #kayfabe #chittr #chittrpsa #narrativwe #metatextual #metamale vwhenevwer someone is kidnapped, trapped in a sgrub session, stranded somevwhere hostile, dying spectacularly, et cetera, there is inevwitably someone in the replies going, "oh, but you had time to chit about it?" as though the natural conclusion is that the character, presently dangling upside-dowvn ovwer a vwat of acid, has taken out their phone, carefully unlocked it, opened chittr, composed three paragraphs and selected an appropriate reaction image. this is not necessarily vwhat is occurring. chittr is the medium through vwhich the narrativwe has elected to present itself. the post exists because vwe, the audience, require some means of observwing the evwent. sometimes the posting itself is diegetic. sometimes it is only partially diegetic. sometimes you are effectivwely reading a stage direction vwearing the skin of a social media post. you are foolish to assume this vwebsite that stretches across an infinite amount of timelines, univwerses, and means of interaction is nothing short of a mythical artifact, perhaps evwen a juju. professional vwrestling does not cease being a vwrestling match because the camera happens to be perfectly positioned to capture a convwersation backstage. nobody turns tovward the cameraman and asks vwhy he is being permitted to stand three feet avway vwhile tvwo men conspire to commit aggravwated assault. you accept the camera because the camera is howv the story reaches you. the same courtesy should probably be extended to someone livwe-chitting their kidnapping. they are not necessarily exposing their location to their captor, compromising the integrity of their sgrub session, or somehowv finding excellent cellular reception inside the narrativwe equivwalent of hell. you are simply being permitted to see vwhat is happening because this is the proscenium vwe havwe chosen. please respect the kayfabe. it is doing a remarkable amount of structural labor for you."
Strange, when I look up "I think some of you would benefit tremendously from becoming acquainted with the concept of kayfabe. Whenever someone is kidnapped, trapped in a SGRUB session, stranded somewhere hostile, dying spectacularly, et cetera, there is inevitably someone in the replies going, "Oh, but you had time to Chit about it?" As though the natural conclusion is that the character, presently dangling upside-down over a vat of acid, has taken out their phone, carefully unlocked it, opened Chittr, composed three paragraphs and selected an appropriate reaction image. This is not necessarily what is occurring. Chittr is the medium through which the narrative has elected to present itself. The post exists because we, the audience, require some means of observing the event. Sometimes the posting itself is diegetic. Sometimes it is only partially diegetic. Sometimes you are effectively reading a stage direction wearing the skin of a social media post. You are foolish to assume this website that stretches across an infinite amount of timelines, universes, and means of interaction is nothing short of a mythical artifact, perhaps even a Juju. Professional wrestling does not cease being a wrestling match because the camera happens to be perfectly positioned to capture a conversation backstage. Nobody turns toward the cameraman and asks why he is being permitted to stand three feet away while two men conspire to commit aggravated assault. You accept the camera because the camera is how the story reaches you. The same courtesy should probably be extended to someone live-Chitting their kidnapping. They are not necessarily exposing their location to their captor, compromising the integrity of their SGRUB session, or somehow finding excellent cellular reception inside the narrative equivalent of Hell. You are simply being permitted to see what is happening because this is the proscenium we have chosen. Please respect the kayfabe. It is doing a remarkable amount of structural labor for you." on the Search function, I can't see other instances of it.
Perhaps it is the syntactical nuance that is lost on you. Cronus is not known for saying, "I think some of you would benefit tremendously from becoming acquainted with the concept of kayfabe. Whenever someone is kidnapped, trapped in a SGRUB session, stranded somewhere hostile, dying spectacularly, et cetera, there is inevitably someone in the replies going, "Oh, but you had time to Chit about it?" As though the natural conclusion is that the character, presently dangling upside-down over a vat of acid, has taken out their phone, carefully unlocked it, opened Chittr, composed three paragraphs and selected an appropriate reaction image. This is not necessarily what is occurring. Chittr is the medium through which the narrative has elected to present itself. The post exists because we, the audience, require some means of observing the event. Sometimes the posting itself is diegetic. Sometimes it is only partially diegetic. Sometimes you are effectively reading a stage direction wearing the skin of a social media post. You are foolish to assume this website that stretches across an infinite amount of timelines, universes, and means of interaction is nothing short of a mythical artifact, perhaps even a Juju. Professional wrestling does not cease being a wrestling match because the camera happens to be perfectly positioned to capture a conversation backstage. Nobody turns toward the cameraman and asks why he is being permitted to stand three feet away while two men conspire to commit aggravated assault. You accept the camera because the camera is how the story reaches you. The same courtesy should probably be extended to someone live-Chitting their kidnapping. They are not necessarily exposing their location to their captor, compromising the integrity of their SGRUB session, or somehow finding excellent cellular reception inside the narrative equivalent of Hell. You are simply being permitted to see what is happening because this is the proscenium we have chosen. Please respect the kayfabe. It is doing a remarkable amount of structural labor for you." Cronus is actually known for saying "i think some of you vwould benefit tremendously from becoming acquainted vwith the concept of kayfabe. #kayfabe #chittr #chittrpsa #narrativwe #metatextual #metamale vwhenevwer someone is kidnapped, trapped in a sgrub session, stranded somevwhere hostile, dying spectacularly, et cetera, there is inevwitably someone in the replies going, "oh, but you had time to chit about it?" as though the natural conclusion is that the character, presently dangling upside-dowvn ovwer a vwat of acid, has taken out their phone, carefully unlocked it, opened chittr, composed three paragraphs and selected an appropriate reaction image. this is not necessarily vwhat is occurring. chittr is the medium through vwhich the narrativwe has elected to present itself. the post exists because vwe, the audience, require some means of observwing the evwent. sometimes the posting itself is diegetic. sometimes it is only partially diegetic. sometimes you are effectivwely reading a stage direction vwearing the skin of a social media post. you are foolish to assume this vwebsite that stretches across an infinite amount of timelines, univwerses, and means of interaction is nothing short of a mythical artifact, perhaps evwen a juju. professional vwrestling does not cease being a vwrestling match because the camera happens to be perfectly positioned to capture a convwersation backstage. nobody turns tovward the cameraman and asks vwhy he is being permitted to stand three feet avway vwhile tvwo men conspire to commit aggravwated assault. you accept the camera because the camera is howv the story reaches you. the same courtesy should probably be extended to someone livwe-chitting their kidnapping. they are not necessarily exposing their location to their captor, compromising the integrity of their sgrub session, or somehowv finding excellent cellular reception inside the narrativwe equivwalent of hell. you are simply being permitted to see vwhat is happening because this is the proscenium vwe havwe chosen. please respect the kayfabe. it is doing a remarkable amount of structural labor for you." As much is said in the post above.
Ah, I understand much more succinctly now, Rose.
Brevity is oft alluded to as being the soul of wit.
♦️█ ░ shes little...miss n0 name...shes l0nes0me and blue. shes l0nging f0r s0me0ne...exactly like y0u! she has n0 0ne t0 talk with. ପ(∗´ര ᎑ ര`∗)ଓ ▒ ▓❤️ ♦️█ ░ she just sits and she stares. ପ(∗´ര ︿ ര`∗)ଓ ▒ ▓❤️ ♦️█ ░ she needs s0me0ne t0 h0ld her. s0me0ne wh0 cares. ପ(∗´- ᎑ ര`∗)ଓ ▒ ▓❤️ ♦️♦️♦️█ ░ p00r little miss n0 name. 0n her cheek theres a tear. shes a sad little n0b0dy. ପ(∗´╥ ﹏ ╥´∗)ଓ ▒ ▓♦️♦️♦️ 💔█ ░ cause theres n0 b0dy near. ପ(∗´⋟ ﹏ ⋞`∗)ଓ ▒ ▓💔 💔█ ░ s0 w0nt s0me0ne? w0nt s0me b0dy? d0 what s0me0ne sh0uld d0? ପ(∗´╹ . ╹`∗)ଓ ▒ ▓💔 ❤️█ ░ and take hive little miss n0b0dy? w0nt s0me0ne? w0nt y0u? ପ(∗´╹ v ╹`∗)ଓ ▒ ▓❤️
I. This takes me back, actually? Outer GODS, this takes me back. I am curious how many other, if any, Roses remember this doll. It is a vivid flashbulb memory that deprioritizes all preceding counterparts. I remember owning a Little Miss Nobody Doll. In a fit of self-induced hypnosis...I think I can even recall what transpired. I am staring at a parcel wrapped in faded, slightly yellowed newsprint under the tree. It was not labeled with my name. It was not labeled with any name. It was made out to nobody in particular. Inside is a miniature porcelain doll with hair the texture of chaffed dry grass and eyes painted with a dull, matte glaze that seems to actively deflect light no matter the angle poised overhead, or trajectory with which it is held and flung in horror. When I asked my mother about it, she took a slow sip of her martini, blinked with exaggerated innocence, and asked what I was talking about. She claims she never purchased it. She claims it was simply there the morning of, and she presumed I had gotten it for myself. As recollection serves, the packaging was sitting directly on top of the unpleasantly textured machine-knit improperly gauged swatch cashmere sweater she did buy me. I remember the doll seeming almost. Smug. Looking at me right now from across the room with that vacant, needlepoint-focused smile, pretending she doesn't see the tiny ceramic hands resting on the edge of the rug like a pair of discarded teeth. I was thoroughly profoundly creeped the fuck out. I conducted an inventory of the attic crawlspace the morning after. No boxes matched the newsprint. No receipt existed on the kitchen island, stashed in the middle console of the car, beneath the bronze inlaid vacuum cleaner, hell even the trashcans upturned turned up nothing. My mother doubled down with the discipline of a seasoned federal agent, casually gaslighting, suggesting that I may have "manifested" the object in a fit of holiday-induced somnambulism, and encouraging me to check my credit score. As if I subconsciously yearn for a mass-produced artifact of Victorian despair with a slightly cracked chin. As if I wanted this. It was then that I decided we were both victims of my mother's perpetual neglect and inability to see eye to eye. So. The doll and I did instead. The shellacked, shell-shocked, massive eyes, droopy lips, and unkempt hair became...well. Nightmarish. But life outside of dreams proved no different. And the familiarity became a cold, but no less welcome, comfort. What about you?
RIDDLE. TIME: AT. TIMES. I. AM. FAST;. OTHER. TIMES. I. AM. SLOW.. I. SEEM. DECEPTIVELY. SHORT. BUT. CAN. ROB. YOUR. HOURS. AWAY.. YOU. CAN. GO. SO. FAR. AND/OR. NOWHERE. AT. ALL, AND. I. CAN. STILL. UPSET. YOU.. I. MAY. BRING. YOU. JOY. OR. DISTRESS... WHAT. AM. I?
a book.
Ah. Clever. I do like how you frame this question with its own requisite answer as prerequisite. It's like watching one of those awareness perceptivity videos where the objective is to discern the number of passes of a ball between players, but one misses the gorilla in a t-shirt just behind the ensuing act. In either case. It's about time. Is it not?
is it this fucking website.
Ohohoho. A "Dashboard", is it?
And this message go to ψhoever the fuck told me to buy Sea Breeze soap. Noψ, number one: I feel cleaner than I ever have. I'm not gonna lie, you probably can eat off my legs; I'm so clean. I'm talking about I'm exfoli-motherfucking-iated. Number tψo: you should have told me not to get it on my booty hole; it feel like I shoved 2 crushed peppermints up there. Every time I fart, it smell like Christmas. You should have told me it ψas for extremities, not in-xtremities. And number one, I didn't even go back there on purpose. I ψas ψashing my back, and the suds rolled doψn, doψn to my motherfucking crack, and it felt like a cool breeze. Noψ I knoψ ψhy they call it Sea Breeze! Baby, it got the tangling like a Dr. Bronner's soap bath. I ψill not be using Sea Breeze back there ever again. I ψill not be ψashing my back ψith Sea Breeze. Sea Breeze ψill only be used on the legs and the arms. Maybe the tummy, but it ψill never be used on my back again. Noψ that thing's clean as a ψhistle. But baby, every time I fart, I hear, I don't ψant a lot for Perigee's Eve~! Just like motherfucking candy canes back there. Candy canes just a-marching.
I will admit. I witheld that information somewhat deliberately, in an ongoing effort to circumspect what you might do with a newfound gift. Never in my wildest lurid-most imaginings would I have surmised you would accommodate your anal extremities (or more aptly, in-xtremities) with an impromptu soap suppository. I profess something of a weakness for imagining the sort of someone so willing to admit she possesses a certain crude, architectural logic for describing herself, and I must confess my diagnostic interest is piqued less by the chemical warfare currently waged by your lower latitudes and more by the plausible hallucinations that have overtaken you as if by prescriptive prestidigitation. Submitting oneself to an involuntary, mint-scented baptism by a sub-aquatic cleaning agent is one thing. Discerning the festive, high-fructose marching cadence of a pop-star's redux holiday discography emanating exclusively from your own hindquarters, however, suggests the Sea Breeze has breached the blood-brain barrier. I suggest a cold compress and a brief moratorium on festive themed hygiene. Though sardonically laconic to say, the all-receding mental image of Mariah Carey conducting a localized, tingly coup d'état within the dark recesses of your anatomy is an algorithmic horror I will forever be entirely unequipped to process before some #substance a lot stronger than morning tea in several hours. However, if your primary grievance is that you now exude the literal, minty ambiance of Perigee's Eve with every passing pocket of gas, I fail to see how this isn't a considerable upgrade from the baseline aromatic insistence of the average Alternian...output. But I will at least sheepishly profess some ignorance on that front.
[BEGIN MESSAGE] tthiz fee|z |ike watching a very bad|y written kizmezitude fic. #vaguep0zting #dazhwatching #nzfwe [END MESSAGE]
Yo. Official moderation message here to remind all folks on the playstructure: kidnapping— even for fun or just plain profit —requires a #NSFWE tag. Even observing the situation and providing live commentary requires a little tag sugar. I'll have Junior fix up your chitts. Slay on, you crazy chitterers. Oh, and... If you're getting explicit about the trauma involved, slap an #abuse tag on there too. Got it?
[BEGIN MESSAGE] g0t it. tthank y0u. [END MESSAGE]
See, Pascal. This is why I appreciate you.
[BEGIN MESSAGE] interezting. [ACTION:QUERY] d0 y0u want me tt0 ttag my 0rigina| p0zt with #kidnapping az we||? [END MESSAGE]
If you like. Shit's not required. The ones appended by Junior are. So it's really up to personal taste.
[BEGIN MESSAGE] pr0per guide|inez w0u|d be appreciated. examp|e. [ACTION:QUERY] d0 a|| kidnapping p|0tz n0w require tthe #nzfwe ttag? i am n0t zure tthiz iz tthe anzwer. given tthat many 0f uz wh0 have been kidnapped did n0t necezzari|y a|z0 have tt0 engage in zexua| actz with tthe kidnapperz. #nzfw #nzfwe #n0nc0n #kidnapping [END MESSAGE]
Common misconception here. The #NSFW and #NSFWE tags aren't about sexual content, though they are used as umbrella catch-all terms for it. NSFW stands for not safe for work, meaning any content that would be ill-advised or unacceptable in a "traditionally" professional or most public settings. Latex bodysuits? Not technically a sex thing, but definitely not office-wear or something you'd boast at the school play. Nonsexual bondage? Not safe for your boss or your grandmother's funeral. Nonconsensual acts, whether sensual or straight up touchless, are still extreme acts of not-safe-for-workery. Dig? There's also the fact that kidnapping itself is nebulous. Stealing your workaholic friend away from their job for some Undisclosed Commercial Brand Coffee™? Technically kidnapping. But that's normal, silly, honest fun. Jacking a guy's whole self? That's possession and snatching, worthy of the #NSFWE tag. Forced confinement, imprisonment, or kidnapping as a "baseline" of your history is fine with the occasional #CW-Kidnapping or #CW-Confinement tag. But that whole malarkey from earlier? Objectively nabbing a guy and posting about the process? NSFWE. Following?
[BEGIN MESSAGE] z0rt 0f. tthiz haz n0t c0me up bef0re. tthere have been quite a few kidnappingz 0n tthiz zite tthat had tthe kidnapper p0zt ab0ut it. ttheze did n0t receive tthe #nzfwe ttag. n0r did tthey zeem tt0 need tt0. tthe main difference i can zee here iz tthat tthe perpetrat0r ch0ze tt0 a|z0 p0zt ab0ut tthe fact tthey were engaging in n0nc0nzenzua| zex with tthe 0ne tthey kidnapped. [ACTION:QUERY] d0ez tthiz mean tthat g0ing f0rward a|| kidnappingz zh0u|d be ttagged az nzfwe? i d0 n0t kn0w ab0ut tthiz az a m0ve az tthe ttag d0ez c0me with imp|icati0nz due tt0 tthe menti0ned mizc0ncepti0nz. i d0 n0t tthink pe0p|e with a hizt0ry 0f being kidnapped w0u|d |ike tthat. #n0nc0n [END MESSAGE]
If I may offer a spot of chamomile flavored nuance tea here... Though, admittedly, it may contain the entire kettle. You are both correct. Just facing in opposite directions. What Dirk has elucidated on is that kidnapping as a baseline has the potential to very easily become #NSFWE by its very nature. You are robbing a person of autonomy and personal faculties for the purposes of extracting or exacting some kind of conferred benefit and violating their right to freely associate. What Pascal has expressed concern about is the knowledge that, very potentially, a major tag could have been omitted from a subject matter's frank discussion, and dozens of accounts could be innocently out of compliance for an expectation they were not aware of or fully afforded understanding was necessary. One is prescriptive, the other proscriptive. But both are correct and relevantly well meaning. Most topically, the #NSFWE tag is and was required as an expectation for even discussions of the most recent kidnapping. This is because the kidnapping featured frank discussions of sexually mature content, coercive content, and noncon, but also consisted of visual and emotional elements that make the nonconsensual nature of the arrangement a crux, a focus, and a graphic feature. The theme of this kidnapping differs from rallying a dashboard to rescue someone abducted by a Saturday Morning hokey cartoon villain with mawkishly sentimental public pleas to ensure nothing bad happens. Unambiguously, discussing the distressing situation of being kidnapped or kidnapping in and of itself is not what makes content #NSFWE, and to answer a little more directly, not all kidnappings require the #NSFWE tag moving forward, or retroactively throughout the site's history. The vast majority of kidnapping plots already on the website do not require the #NSFWE tag, and have not, though it is entirely possible that some slipped through the cracks using subliminal phrasing. Or perhaps more charitably, users may have used other required tags, which enabled them to be filtered before it reached the eyes of those sensitive to such content, thus resulting in either obscurity or obfuscation among participants. An untagged post that went unnoticed is an acceptable outcome, provided if it is ever resurfaced or found, the user is receptive to gently being nudged into compliance going forward. Regardless, once a report is received on a post, it will be addressed irrespective of how long ago the post was made. This is not to punish users for a slip-up or to make them feel singled out, but to communicate expectations as necessary. So far, there has not been a single kidnapping plot that required a retroactive #NSWE tag apart from the most recent, and it is for the reasons described above. This hasn't come up before largely as a result of frequently rule-abiding kidnapping situations being wholly unique and specific to the situation at hand, while still using #kidnapping or #violence or #noncon or, even in some cases, #NSFWE as required. Factors that would make a kidnapping #NSFWE include...How graphic is the kidnapping? What means are resorted to in order to achieve this end? Are there visuals or evocative language preceding a home invasion? To illustrate even further, and please feel free to skip this next part if especially disinclined towards philistine prattle about #NSFWE, Describing, in explicit detail as I am going to now, the type of restrictive bondage used to gag a mouth as it coughs up spit and bile, the wounds inflicted in service of restraining limbs from fussily clawing out against an aggressor, the tears of a victim and their corresponding bloodshot eyed pleas, begging to 'get it over with', to 'just see their family again', while the callous and bastardly sort responsible boasts about all intended to be inflicted on this victim. A picture of the victim crying, kicking their feet against the legs of a chair. Days ticking on. Starvation-induced physical deterioration. Descended bellies. Ribcages that are visible through the skin. Sunken eyes that haven't seen the outside of a dark room in days. Teeth chipped or shattered from retaliatory retribution. Enamel fragments pooling in one's spit as it slides towards a drain. Nail torture. Prolonged positional torture. All manners of #BODYHORROR, #DOMESTICABUSE, and #VIOLENCE can be #NSFWE as well. This doesn't mean every instance of violence, body horror, or even abuse necessarily IS #NSFWE, just that it is very likely it may be, owed to thematic overlap inherent to nonconsensual acts. This is why even #kidnapping is not technically a required tag, just encouraged. As succinctly as it can be put, many kidnapping plots have the potential to be #NSFWE. While #NSFWE is often used as a shorthand phrase towards "violently sexual" or "incestuous interplay" or even "really weird paraphilias", none of these descriptors are accurate, and nuance is strongly encouraged. #NSFWE is for extreme contents and themes. Certain depictions of kidnapping easily enter that territory. Most tags are a courtesy, instead of a requirement. #NSFWE is a requirement. It is not the kidnapping itself that makes material #NSFWE, but the #NSFWE content that is liable to be featured. Having said that, hopefully this affords additional clarity? I do apologize for my chronic inability to be brief. If there is any further confusion, as Dirk attests, we are absolutely able to elaborate in DMs or the Official Chittr Discord.
>:33c < *the huntress lurks quietly in the underbrush, always on the lookout fur new ships to add to her charts*
Ever always a celebrated addition to an ongoing anthology.
C=~ A ggreat gisturbance came to stir widhin dhe gepdhs of dhe outer realms, ang so it was so dhat dhe Lalonges of violet gescent were calleg to meet in dhe GGargen, one such conggreggation dhusly assembleg known as dhe Counsel of Blossoms, to giscuss dhe inner workinggs of dheir stewargship over dhe dhinggs which squirm ang wridhe in dhe gark widh dhe bouquet until dheir intentions dhusly become one. C=~ C=~ Geliberations quickly ran soudh, conflictingg igeas offereg no substance to pollinate a solution. Argguments over sown seegs which faileg to ggerminate in moments past, ang varyingg dheories as to what reason dhe plantingg gig not succeeg were passeg about, nurturingg irritable seeglinggs. One by one, dheir vexeg pans beggan to overggrow widh umbragge. Dhe ggreenery swelleg to blanket dhe multituge ang from it a tree stretcheg out its branches ang beggan to cast a rancorous shagow over dhe council members. It requireg only one act of obegience to beggin dhe cascage, only one to ggive into its temptinggs ang taste of dhe seguctive fruit. C=~ C=~ Dhe squabblingg cacophony came to a suggen jaw-groppeg quiet, an awestruck crowg all compelleg to a stunneg silence except for two who hag eaten of dhe furious phytoig ovary ang flown into a bling gelugge of carnal, soppingg rhapsogy. A few more turneg to one anodher, shruggggeg, ang became one widh dhe spite-spurneg passion also. A collective gecision finally grawn, dhe counsel of blossoms became of one unanimous ming in dheir singgular mutual dhougght, "why not?" Dhe counsel gevolveg into an amalggam of sloppy, smuddy gebauchery for many gays, entangglingg toggedher in similituge widh dhe slimy, squirmingg odher-dhinggs over which dhey presige. In experiencingg exaltations of dhe flesh dhe counsel quickly forggot dhe origgins of dhe ggadheringg ang bogily urgges. Surely, it was inevitable dhat a chorus of ecstatic vacillations rangg out dhrouggh Dhe GGargen. Dhey sangg toggedher in ggreat ang luxurious orggy, ang dhe bouquet of Roses was gglorious C=~ C=~ When dhe flame of concupiscence hag finally burneg dhrouggh all of its available fuel, ang dheir liquifieg ragge hag extingguisheg all remainingg embers, one voice amongg many rangg out. In postcoital clarity, she came to a simple, yet miraculous conclusion, a padh of least resistance, in fewer worgs dhan coulg be counteg on two hangs. Dhe counsel members all noggeg in aggreement as to dhe soungness of her worgs, ang dhe meetingg was finally gismisseg. Dhe gisturbance was efficiently quelleg dhereafter C=~
I apologize for the unusual brevity. I have but a few thoughts to share. Ah. Sex Pollen. Such an unconquerable classic. Will it ever be dethroned from the confines of literary employ? Perhaps not. The many brick lain masonry scars from the primordial mortar-lined and protected cubicle will stand in unwavering ages against the perpetually accumulated ages. I must confess to a certain bemused admiration for the sheer density of florally affixed vernacular at play here. You have committed so fully to the arboreal conceit of your own premise that one almost expects to find pollen stains on the prose itself. "Rancorous shadow," "furious phytoid ovary", the dedication to maintaining this extended botanical allegory while describing what is essentially a temporal clone orgy suggests a mind of...decisively made focus, if not necessarily disciplined talent. That said, the narrative economy is equally telling. The transition from "vexed pans overgrowing with umbrage" to "sloppy, smutty debauchery" occurs with such an ethically dubious velocity that one suspects the author was either rushing to reach the carnal payload or simply eschewed the patience to properly earn their climax, as it were. Are you an especially impatient lover, Pelagi? You may be disappointed to learn how much time it really takes to please a human, even with a mind addled by the imposition of sex pollen(s). The "path of least resistance" conclusion feels particularly of prognosticating import, given the elaborate cosmic setup. If taken at allegorical face value, the solution to interdimensional disturbance is simply to exhaust oneself through vigorous self-love? A comforting perspective, I suppose, if not a particularly compelling horror. The answer being inside of me all along is not a notion I seek to unravel myself, or even myselves, but amongst others who offer a unique perspective and entreaty. We are all listlessly unblinking wanderers with mouths agape, thrashing through the blinding eternities of everlasting all-spanning oblique obfuscation. For posterity's sake, and in the interest of technical accuracy, I do rather love the piece. I find the "why not?" moment's hivemindian ubiquitousness particularly authentic and especially poignant. I suspect I would shrug, given sufficient provocation and insufficient observers. But not in my own company. Not amidst me. And the postcoital clarity leading to more efficient problem-solving? Aspirational, truly. The "post-nut" effect is a documented phenomenon with a cross pollination that defies scientific study or singular category relevance. If only all my existential dilemmas could be resolved through the strategic application of narcissistic hedonism and a complete abandonment of sphere separating societally adhering modesty. If only 'giving a fuck' were tantamount to problem solving to any degree of permanence. Many of my eternal struggles would become fleetingly liminal.
C=~ On dhe contrary, you assume dhe pacingg of gebauchery incorrectly. You seem to have misseg dhe followingg statement after dhat which clarifies dhat dhe pacingg, ang dherefore dhe collective self-pleasuringg, occurreg over dhe course of several gays, not simply hours. I have intentionally left dhe amount of time spent on dhese activities gubious, but also far from short. Dhe arggument itself from dhe lens of blackrom becomes an essential part of dhe builgup to intimacy as well. C=~ C=~ It is a hasty ggeneralization to conflate your experience of dhe pacingg of dhis narrative's proggress from furious to fuckingg to my personal sexual patience, radher dhan to consiger dhat maybe breakingg into suggen sloppy makeouts in dhe miggle of an arggument is inherently funny. I go not personally assume dhat sloppy, smuddy gebauchery excluges all odher stagges of proggression except for climax ang intercourse. Radher, to me such a worgingg represents dhe process of copulation in its entirety, inclugingg dhe builgingg of sexual tension, foreplay ang mutuality. To make such a claim about my personal patience baseg on dhat information woulg be to graw dhis limiteg conclusion yourself dhat sloppy smuddy gebauchery excluges all but intercourse first. Are you an impatient lover, Rose iteration? I woulg not assume so, ang you shoulg not assume so of me. Clearly, dhis particular line of semantics is fallacious ang unnecessary. C=~ C=~ Movingg on; C=~ C=~ Observe also how it beggins in a loadhingg which ggrows out of an inconclusive gilemma outsige of dhemselves, ang how it is dhe blamingg of one anodher for its inconclusiveness insteag of what causeg it, ang dheir inability to hear each odher which leags dhem not initially to viggorous self love, but too viggorous self hate. Dheir mings are clougeg over by dheir own urggency ang frustration, dhere can be no giscovery here. Dhe solution, dherefore, is not nearly so simple as a singgular state ragical self-love ang nodhingg else, but a complex, evolvingg ang lenggdhy engeavor of purggingg unnecessary neggativity. A comingg to terms widh imperfection ang limitations must occur, in dhis case expresseg dhrouggh carnal means amongg temporal clones insteag of cerebral lines of inner gialoggue. C=~ C=~ Dhe neegs of dhe emotional self are complex ang illoggical, ang often easier to process dhrouggh physical sensation dhan dhrouggh worgs. Dhe council of blossoms not only came to dhe unanimous conclusion of, "why not," but also dhat loggic ang reasoningg coulg not overcome dhis problem until dheir emotional ang physical neegs hag been fully satisfieg. It is not unusual dhat beinggs of dhe flesh may fing dhemselves unable to perform loggical tasks while emotional ang physical neegs are unmet. Dhrouggh dhese acts, dhe council not only relieves dheir physical neegs but dheir emotional ones as well, vacillatingg dhrouggh dhe full rangge of feelingg in dhe process. In meetingg dhose neegs, dhe council unburgeneg dhemselves, ang as a result dheir vision was no longger clougeg to dhe solution dhat hag been in front of dhem all alongg. I suppose you coulg also say dhat dhe work compares dhe intensity of gopaminerggic rewarg for eureka to dhat of copulatory release, in tangem widh a punchline rooteg in dhe familiar experience of postcoital ggenius. C=~ C=~ Neverdheless, a fantasy such as dhis is not meant to be taken seriously. It is, at its core, silly C=~
Oh, I am absolutely an inpatient and expectant lover. Any assumptions made about me confer you no demerits or duly regarded defensiveness. I am merely sharing what I consider to be pertinent details concerning this work. You seem quite proud of it, and, duly so. I'll again reiterate I quite enjoyed it. But that is beside the point. My likeness, or rather, a likeness of mine was borrowed, and I felt it prudent to weigh in with my thoughts. The good, the bad, and the cuddly. And while the woeful underabundance of consentacles, black sacrosanct invocations, or due regarding of maritime appendages is always a minor let-down, it did not siphon my enjoyment of the work. When you leave much up to interpretation, many things will be interpreted. This is simply the nature of fiction in which gaps are left, by artistic design or oversight, for an onlooker to experience. Many will see a gap and think all manners of salacious things. Others will need to be goaded. You can lead a Y/C reader to monsterpussy, but you cannot confer in them due impetus to drink. All of this to say. I am quite eager for future works from you on the subject.
C=~ Human bulgge is substantially gifferent dhan troll bulgge, ang dhus gefiningg dhem by dhe same terminologgy is quite a confusingg gecision I fing. I propose dhat we invent a new colloquial term for dhis alien oblongg sex orggan. C=~ C=~ I propose, "Squirtpole." C=~
I propose "squirtpole" receives two evolutionary stages to signify experience of a significant grittiness and wide reaching influence. Say, after grinding sixteen or so levels of sexual encounters, the war-torn poll can become..."wartornpole". And once of a sufficient caliber of ejaculatory proficiency beyond even this, the blasted toy of a ancillary appendage can become..."blasttoyspole".
@woeGothic @flightyBroad Nemesisters, we have a rogue terror causing havoc and pain to one of the flowers in our garden.
While doubtful to sort itself out on its lonesome, there are some degrees to which I'm disinclined to see...wait. What happened to the petunias? I'll need only a scant few moments before I am right with you. Some crimes are unpardonable even in imagining.
What are y0ur guys current hear me 0ut
Most presently? Ebrietas, Daughter of the Cosmos.
seems intense on main today. can i join
I've been told it has something to do with a special occasion specifically dedicated to one who felt it prudent to symbolically signify the inertia of existence incepted on the eventide of yesterday's passing. Doc Scratch birthday, in simpler terms.
there is a particular kind of joy in being present when a timeline finally gives up not observing it from somewhere safe inside it feeling the sequence of causality buckle around you while every distant light begins to vanish one by one the stars they recede they pull away from you until the sky feels impossibly deep and empty and intimate and for a few moments the whole universe seems to be dying directly into your hands i do not know how to describe the feeling without making it sound indecent so i will not try very hard 0u0 #unreality #cosmichorror #existentialhorror #extinction #massdeath #doomedtimelines #deathfascination #erotichorror #stardeath #apocalypse #nsfw #nsfwadjacent
Real.
Comment below and I'll assign you a Magic: The Gathering card like I did with Casper.
Hopefully this isn't egregiously self-idolizing to insinuate, but I will confess I can't think of anyone whose answer would be more inherently precognizant in validity.
My Gru6tu6e alg9rithm is just a 6unch 9f crafting c9mmunity tea and several h9ur-l9ng vide9 game d9cumentaries.
If you ever wish to trade the esoteric insights of the craft community's tendency to spin a yarn...I'm ever always enthused at the prospect. I happen to be well-read in on some of the finer blowouts of poorly managed craft conventions and less formidably arranged events that ended in fiasco-tier disasters.
♠️█ ░ 0hh...similarly... ପ(∗´ര ᎑ ര`∗)ଓ ▒ ▓❤️ ♠️█ ░ t0 miss r0se...i kn0w a thing 0r tw0...ab0ut seam splitting...hilari0us 0versights...cut fr0m a similar cl0th...but mine are m0stly...cauti0nary tales...that br0ught pe0ple...untimely demises...fr0m carelessness...w0uld that c0unt...f0r craft c0mmunity tea...? ▒ ▓❤️ ♠️█ ░ i als0 *play*...plenty 0f...visual n0vels...and...casual...r0le playing games...like...bl00db0rne? hhhehhh. ▒ ▓❤️
I would not even at my most charitable describe Bloodborne as a "casual roleplaying game"...but I would be most interested in your aforementioned macabre transpiring(s) and elucidating information therein. Perhaps the three of us could meet sometime, at regular intervals, for sharing stories? Swap meet around the computational campfire to prattle with feverish insights.
Firstly, Hell9. Sec9ndly, please, please, please tell me all. Please. I d9 desire t9 hear s9 much s9, after a fun, well-d9ne vide9 9n Ravelry and an9ther 9n a scam artist yarn sh9p and their devi9usly died scanes with her vari9us faked deaths... I w9uld l9ve t9 hear m9re. A p99rly managed craft c9nventi9n? 9h, a failed craft fair? An expl9sively p99rly planned Craft meet-up? I want t9 hear a69ut it! I'm m9re than thrilled t9 trade insights! I need m9re friends in this space; it's me, my many, many, many cr9cheted cra6s against the w9rld (n9 9ne wanting t9 listen t9 me yap a69ut knitting drama)
The fiber arts community in particular, as you are no doubt aware, is a veritable breeding ground for melodrama worthy of the most tragic woegothic psalms whispered unto untold decrepitude and debauchery. A literary classic of an example is the owner of Mystical Creations Yarn (MCY), who faked leukemia and her own death via emails from a listlessly ill-specified “family member" to avoid fulfilling massive backlogs of orders. One might think, in innocently donned cloak of sincere naivety, that the fiber arts community would be a gentle haven of grandmotherly souls clicking bamboo needles in harmonious solidarity. How tragically mistaken. For we have borne witness to the Shakespearean tragedy of tragic reversals, nay, the cosmic horror, with one corpo indie yarn dyer after the next who faked their own death, only to be discovered very much alive and presumably dyeing overpriced threads in a basement somewhere, like some textile themed Victor Frankenstein playing god with merino blends and cotton derivatives. The scandal was eviscerating. I bought a special stockpile of their going out of business special sale yarn to etch a fake tombstone, should I ever decide to fake my own mademoiselle demise using their slip stich slapdash method.
▲i really picked the only one that isnt fucking insufferable huh?▼
?what is that supposed to meaN
It could mean anything. Though my money is on a tawdry joke being mistaken for an advance of some sort. I attempted to punch down on another Rose, and wound up throwing a wild haymaker that only seemed to connect haphazardly and to limited efficacy. Such is the woe and weal of random social dealings and encounters.