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Everything posted by hayfevered

  1. yo hey i forgot about cicada oops but anyways im in nebraska until August >:[ look @ this art i did on my new comp tho hfjfjsksk radish is lookin SNAZZY


  2. Weekly Poll: What's your dream travel destination?

    ...this poll feels targeted hrhfjdjsk
  3. u ever feel like u Should Not vent because it doesnt help anything nd it just gets people worried when itd be better to just Chill Out and bury everythign in the front yard while rbing everything u can find from positivity blogs bc thats the Current Mood, babes

    1. thepensword


      hello i make my unhappiness everyone else's business and in venting i make it not be In My Brain anymore so venting is in fact helpful and you should go ahead and do it and not feel like a burden because You Are Not and I Love You

  4. Here's your chance to become a non player character

    @Fullmetal Sorcerer can i self insert into this campaign. i want to run the antique shop hi im logan i eat eggs with soy sauce/hot sauce/butter on them all at once and i dotn fucking wear shoes. im a fucking dumbass elf of undisclosed class and my wardrobe is exclusively comprised of short shorts, thigh highs, and shirts with english text poorly translated from Fantasy Japan or something (a favorite: neon pink with yellow lettering that says "seven days away. i think i Thought i heard you say"). i know which plants are what and i WILL make this known. u bet ur ass i have the full latin genus and specific epithet READY TO GO. oh u think u know things about the native flora? do u? move im gay and i can whip out plant lore as well. plant history. ethnobotany, bitch. ill munch a raw stalk of rhubarb in front of you to assert dominance. dont try me ill whack you with the antique youre trying to steal. speaking of antiques theres a section in the store thats specifically for street signs. there are a lot of them. somehow Elm St. is on at least 8 different street signs in the stacks. yes you may look at the swords here but none of them are for sale. theyre fucking mine. ill sell you matches from Fantasy WWII and a glock if you want it but yaint touching my swords. also theres a sign outside my shop that says "no pants or heterosexuals allowed". capri pants are ok but youre on thin fucking ice
  5. giving myself up

  6. tripping rough into wet sand

    i. huginn. muninn. from their throats comes a draconic hungry purr, clicking as if the noise catches and sticks before clattering to the ground like a car that doesn't want to start they spiral. you spiral. these aren't so different here though yours is a metaphorical thing less of feathers and updrafts and more like pencil sharpeners and pocketknives you are running low on peroxide. ii. memory. thought. you apologize to your past self your future self: for not being kind or good or happy or the type of person you needed when you were younger steak knife. pocketknife. these things, these blades, are the kind that flash in the sun and show you the meaning of the phrase 'eyes are the windows to the soul'. you suck the rambutan stone and you are, by default, at peace. iii. golden film reel. more sepia, really. colder. emptier the color of yesteryear's forecast when you picked up the habit of holding your sleeves by the hem when they might slip two nights. 977 nights. these things are different only by their edges by their endings and by their titles your past self is angry and ashamed and your present self is sick to disappoint him you are your own ticking. iv. you break patterns. they lend themselves to you, laid out and easy like a spread of block print like sandcastles you step square and firm right in the middle to feel the crumble or the hard, fast way completeness can end and then all you have is a sandcastle with a footprint in it. there are things that cannot be hidden. this block print brandishes old scars and tall socks. v. longevity is the mistress of anxiety. vi. when the sun sets, you dig through the sky searching for diamonds but you find pea gravel flung far past the string of buoys that tell you you've gone too far and to turn back lest your lungs burn up in a flare of oxygen the rope holds the buoys down like scars hold down your skin. you are something gossamer. vii. last night you stood freezing outside at two AM with your head back and eyes flung wide to embrace the stars in your irises. flashlight in one hand, pocketknife in the other the shadows cast threaded a coil of fear in your gut and your knuckles stretched white. you are made of this, of tendons and veins and smallness under the sky, the kind of smallness that fills your chest with helium and lead viii. you look hard for good endings but always stumble into begging for forgiveness instead
  7. i had a poem in my head

    past present future odin's ravens memory and thought clean who am i to say staring out a window slicing into rambutan slingshot and two nights (blade) forgive me please
  8. Weekly Poll: Are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?

    @Apollo's Lover@Short_comedian@thepensword@queenie_flower@conradbirdie oh you know
  9. the heart function dont work on old posts but im saving this
  10. im so fucking close to winning two whole ass months yal

  11. greek iris

    here, in these heavy, yellow-bellied clouds swelled with the storm, pleased by the weight unraveled & mouthy comes thunder where spindle-weak fences pin down the hills & the hills let them, & the winds scream praises, & the barbed wires rename themselves please small suns dot the gaps between lightning fingers & the sky sobs yellow-green, like the stomach of a frog here, under these dripping prayers, sweetgrass laid limp over itself and dew-shining, i ride my bike to the end of the sidewalk & that, where the rain peels itself up from the concrete humid for the sunlight, greek iris in prosper & that, where i stop propped on one foot that is what love tastes like
  12. a galaxy rings your throat

  13. oh lore?

    "Bitch," was the first thing out of Rad's mouth as their focus shrank into their palm. "Ain't you familiar with common courtesy at ALL? If you's'a been slurped into my dimension, y'ain't've lasted five seconds." To fucking hell with it, they figured, and twirling their tiny focus around clawed fingers was admittedly a little easier while they undid Mop's glamour halfway to a gaudy walking stick size, bronze suddenly dripping off it in cascades of what appeared to be beads. Oh, perfect. The drama deity had a shiny-ass parasol to go with their flair for theatrics. "An' that's how it's done," they all but sneered, tapping their glamoured staff onto the ground with finality, spinning it by the handle to accentuate the bullshit aesthetics they'd worked into it. And because this was, of course, some kind of pissing contest, Radish spent more magic on upping their physical glamour; while they apparently refused to vanish their horns, the red desaturated from them while they molded their appearance to something more human. "Bitch" was repeated at Mop with a much more self-satisfied air of confidence. @thepensword@conradbirdie@queenie_flower (im crying i need to draw radish theyre so extra)
  14. oh lore?

    file at the end contains The Lore(tm) Prompt: something has just been summoned, and nobody has a fucking clue what to do with it or how to put it back, or what even went wrong. Current setting: Dark-ass storage closet where 2-4 friends had chalked up a summoning circle. It's suddenly very fucking cramped (thanks something), and oh shit the candles might set something on fire. What now? Ew, otherworldly hand. Right in the face. Y'all stop fucking screaming. Name: Radish (Rad) Age: Primordial Gender/Pronouns: good luck trying to keep up. stick with they/them to avoid 'i dont know what gender is but im going to try them all' confusion. Species: the demon that came out of the fucking floor Height: 5'3" Appearance: http://bit.ly/2DzOtkw Surprisingly humanoid. Blame it on chameleon capabilities, probably. Blonde hair, vaguely bluish-brown skin. Too-long sharp nails and teeth + stereotypical forked tongue, but very blue. Tall by the standards of wherever they came from, but by human standards rather short. Vows vengeance but can't change physical appearance in this dimension. Clothes resemble the uniform to a British guard at Buckingham, but in royal purple and without the silly hat. Later they probably discover the comforts of hoodies and jeans. Applicable Quirks: In literally any other scenario, Rad could unload almost any language they pleased. This good-for-nothing human dimension, however, limits them to English and Latin. At least Latin is great for spells. Quick Backstory: Underling of a hegemonic rule, they were one of the king's guards. Hey, at least it came with a nifty outfit. Weapons Abilities: Quarterstaff. Powers: Focus is an emerald in their staff, bronzed wood magically bent around it so it isn't visible. To use it, Rad's kinetic energy set is a series of martial arts steps that flow much like shadowboxing would. "Ow, FUCK." buckle up yall.docx buckle up yall.docx
  15. Some Angsty Shit

    aw brabe... :( <3<3<3<3 my good vibes are coming for you
  16. hewwo everyone! im doing alright and im feeling pretty safe bc my decoy worked and since my dad thinks it's broken im going to get it out of the house and say i threw it out...my qpp stella has my working phone so it's 100% safe and i hope i can get back to you guys soon. also i have silly art of my polycule to show u guys soon sdhskjdgksjdfs

  17. help

    i am made of twine, tightly wrapped around gods fingers turning them blue (or blackening, for gold oxide/ gold ichor, coursing through her veins) i have not the words to worship nor the voice to cry just rope, fraying, pulling tight around both ceramic lungs please god let me breathe
  18. Mama's face

    theyre boycotting the slam bc of the paywall sorry dude
  19. @thepensword@conradbirdie@Short_comedian@queenie_flower@mousecircus@The Invincible Troodon@Apollo's Lover@Ainm

    to elaborate on the ominous message i left on discord, my dad found me with my smartphone (which, as y'all will recall, is one that i bought myself because im not allowed to have one) and so im in panic mode right now....but if someone can tell terran im doing ok that would be great?

    my dad went back downstairs because hes clearly fuming (but he?? also clearly has No Idea how versed i am in this particular art) so i factory reset my smartphone and i currently have a decoy iphone 4 out to see if i can tell him it was That One and then be let off the hook. i love you guys ill see yal on the other side

    1. Show previous comments  3 more
    2. Apollo's Lover

      Apollo's Lover

      We are rooting for you Logan! (sunshine)

    3. Short_comedian


      Shit man I hope you're ok. Be safe. Let us know ASAP how things go.

    4. queenie_flower


      oh my god how did I miss this I hope you’re okay

  20. Marnie Galloway Q&A

    How do you plan comics? Do you go with the flow or are there a couple drafts before the final product?
  21. of the earth

    i. drunken bees dip and bow through blueing twilight and past solar-powered pseudo-suns gilded flickering wings ii. toeing the sunset lines stars lift borrowed light from topaz-yellow honeycomb iii. may tastes like summer's first kiss like pirouetting barefoot from tar line to tar line to streetside curb like bolting through the forest heels kicking up and out as if they don't touch the ground at all may tastes like things might be okay iv. and after the rain falls, all that glitters is gold.
  22. new simile idea

    "caffeine makes me vibrate like a funky little chihuahua in direct view of the sun or one single corn chip"

  23. id like to first and foremost apologize to Terran in advance


    second, @queenie_flower all I have in the lore mechanics tag is something about focii being used instead of hands for magic bc if u miscast the focus will explode and not ur hand. and then theres a post about how storms are calming bc it's a lot of negative ions, which are apparently natural antidepressants? so while rushing water is a Pure Element and rinses away magic and ur spells won't work, it's still nice to be outside. glamours fall off like the devilfucking dickens tho which might be a problem for radish