

Ernest GroutCoo coo! Tread soft now, lest you scatter my flock with those thuddering boots, send them skyward in feather blasts. But one misstep, and they will pound upon the air, and splitter it with shrieking, and desert old Ernie Grout. They are flighty little creatures. So hushly, quietlike, come have a seat,Ernest Grout
be not timid but timorous, sit yourself down on this boney slat bench beside
an 'umble shepherd of the skies.
A bag


a dozen sighsa dozen sighs
Captain! Master Caravaneer! Does the agile gait of your mount on this rocky slope surprise you? This descent is traced deep in her sinews. The citrus zephyrs flaring her nostrils are childhood friends. Those flavourless clumps, waving to her in the rubble, are the distant progeny of her first green meal! Ha! Can you see it in her heavy-lidded gaze? That this panorama — a wheel of rocks scratching the sky, A fortress you have beckoned her to infiltrate — that this vision was her first? Once this was her entire world. These crags were the bounds of her meagre meditations, The limits of her animal


Thilfil Stipps CongregationThilfil Stipps Congregation
A young man is sitting on the altar of the Hovel of St Alpais in the City of the Dead. Littering the surrounding parquetry with chips flying from his whittling-knife, the angles of a grimace cut into his face. This is Aldo Chartan. Thilfil Stipp’s half-brother, blood brother, his equal, his accomplice and restraint, all of his compassion and probably more than half of his sanity, not to mention his pack mule, haha, ah, Aldo — in his quietness you can hear the buzz of fates mostly destined to fall ill, in his words a profundity granted merely by their rarity (usually undeservedly but occasionally surprisingly). He is Aldo Chartan, the s
make-believe
--
How many copyeditors does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
AU: Do you mean "replace a lightbulb" or "have sex in a lightbulb"? Clarify?
Now get back here and submit something.
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Art of my friend: Quoom art
What you know you can't explain, but you feel it. You've felt it your entire deviant life, that there's something wrong with the story. You don't know what it is, but it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad.
You take the blue pill, the story ends. Your browser closes and you believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in wonderland. And, I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.
I offer only the truth, nothing more.
Take: The Red Pill
Take: The Blue Pill
--
The Angry Deviant
Random Deviant
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[link]
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d[*_*]b
heh, look forward to whatever you submit
peace
hahhaahah
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