RL
@threnodysThorns
She/Her I'm holding off posting much for now, but my DMs are open.
Despite my chosen shade of purple, I do like to think that if I were a troll I would be a seadweller.
lmao same i was afbc (assigned fuchsiablood by callie) back when we wer makin my trollsona lol p effin ironic considerin my long history w fish bitches i know
Alright, enough forestalling the self-care beam. You all will have to do without me for another while.
aw, bye rose!
buenas, rosie :)
Sleep nice
Interesting moment of #dashwatching.
Why thank you. I forgot when exactly I took it, but the framing is quite nice. I do worry I overdid it on the filters though.
...were you dash watching the dash watching?
i gueeeeeeeesssssssss.
Another #notthatCasey update: Tonight's dinner is shrimp salad. Because, and I quote, "shrimps is bugs".
i mean, she aint wrong shrimp r quite literally the cucarachas of the seas
Don't tell them this. I need dinner to be la cucaracha free, for my sanity.
Casey (not that Casey) keeps asking to be taught telekinesis spells. I don't have the time to ward literally everything I own against that, and she still hasn't learned impulse control. So the answer is still no. But every year she gets closer and closer to figuring it out on her own.
Have we had Troll Teddie Cayver on here yet?
To My Knowledge We Have Not, Though I Just Got Here So Who Really Knows
I Personally Enjoy Being A Complex Mess That No One Gets Any Details On Until I Allow Them Too
aw man i rly should try n b a lil moer liek u, i sabsoluyly hate bein an open book :/// absolutely*
Its Alright, It's A Bit Difficult To Be Acutely Aware Of What You Want To Hide Takes A Lot Of Time And Practice
I will say, I picked a serendipitous time to look at chittr again. Anyway, I will be working on that followup to my cyoa. I have not forgotten.
...Well. I have spent roughly a week surveying the site. I really do not see what my foresight could possibly be warning me about here. Other than the fact that Lord English apparently has an account. But, in my brief examination thereof, it seems to be largely impotent rage and disgust. So really, how bad could it be?
To be clear, yes I am aware this is likely to be a 'rube goldberg machine of fate' type of ordeal. But it could also be that I will just have a bad few weeks later down the line and Chittr will not prove helpful.
[BEGIN MESSAGE] quezti0nz azked bef0re everything g0ez d0wnhi||. [END MESSAGE]
It would be very funny on a cosmic scale if I never posted anything ever again.
[BEGIN MESSAGE] it w0u|d. agreed. [END MESSAGE]
don't worry about lonely steve. he just wants someone stupid enough to pop by and give him a potential way out.
B// < sh33sh be careful with your bs rose BX33 < nobody in your timeline would appurreciate you tempting fate to post on a website like this
2 b fair, the whiny LE accounts aint even close 2 being the worst thing out there but im sure ur gonna b fine lol
The sun wanders alone in the sky. The moon loves him only briefly, the stars flee from his radiance. He scours them from the sky with a lash with of golden fire that cools to polite blue in his hand. Only haltingly do they emerge from hiding holes to peer queerly at the sun's turned back and the world below. What inspired his endless march from East to West? Does he know that he is trapped? Does he even wish to be free, or merely to rule? To know that he is feared and adored, worshipped within his domain? Does he know that each star in its own right wields their own lash, some mightier and more terrible than he? That he is only king in the land he occupies, that his steel-shod gait, his strongest scream seems to slip scurrilously into stutters and shushes of static, silent as snow? Does he know he will die, one day, too? The stargazers do. They are a stargazer, sitting in a house on a hill, high and haughty with nose upturned and yet somehow still in a book every other time you look. An apprentice pretends his hands hold books as grand as his masters do, doing the delicate work with a petite little smirk of repairing spines with glue. When the sky turns to day, the stargazer packs their things away and the apprentice sweats through their sewing outside. They watch the town down below, all criers and carriers, friars and harriers, terriers and barriers and pliers in hands of farriers. They wonder when they will all unstop their ears and worry about fate's cold arrears, and what will happen when the star they've fallen in love with will die out and fade from view. They wonder if then they will pay their due. She (ye) have no such grand design, though still you look up at the sky. You watch a crow swing low and arrest at its nest and cock its head down at you. "I've no fear of scourge or bright blazing blue," The crow says, puffing its chest, "And someday soon I'll fly up there and usurp that old beast for I'm sick of the devil's abuse." And now I must ask, for the time to narrate has passed. Who are you? what do you do? #cyoa #prose #barely #the-most-liked-reply-dictates
i am the smith's daughter, evading the heat of the forge only in the brief moments between tasks. the cool air outside is a boon enhanced only by the knowledge that i have more heat and toil ahead of me. perhaps i stray further, stepping out to see if the fruit stall has been picked clean.