Welcome to the Chaos

https://wheelofnames.com/ry4-3s4

The wheel is completed but if you the mod want to change it at all feel free and I couldn't figure out how to get the link to work properly even un-anoned.

Thanks, have a nice day and drink some water

You have just lost use of this random kitchen item/implement!

15 years old: i was so cringe when i was twelve, i'm super mature now though. i'm a totally different person. i'm basically an adult

18 years old: i was so. (trying to be nicer to myself) fifteen. when i was fifteen. i wasn't an adult even a little back then. i'm an adult now though of course

21 years old: i was so newborn fawn taking its first steps when i was 18. i wasn't an adult at 18 i'm barely even an adult now tbh

23 years old: i was so. hey wait the others have all gone up in increments of three why'd it change

23 years old: because i'm still 23 so i can't speak to that experience yet

23 years old: do you think anything will magically change in the next few months to the point where you can't possibly imagine how you'll feel at 24

23 years old: i mean you never know. anything can happen. they're letting people born in 2002 turn 24, for instance

the t conductor announces the next stop. it is a discordant screech filled with snarls. people sigh, gather their bags.

no one on the street will meet your eyes. no one has met your eyes for weeks. you’re lonely.

you walk over the thin dark grate above the subway tunnels. it shakes and roars and the wind from it stinks. it is 3:30 in the morning and the trains are no longer running.

there are old churches everywhere, hunched between skyscrapers, anchoring the corners of blocks. no don’t look around. there are churches everywhere.

no one parks their car in harvard yard. no one can get in to harvard yard. the heavy iron gates are shut. the ivy is getting thicker.

you walk into dunkies and the person behind the counter greets you by name and knows your usual order. you have never been in this store before.

you are late getting back to your hotel on newbury street. it’s dark, the stores are closed. the mannequins in pinkyotto watch you hurry down the sidewalk. the glass of the window fogs in front of their muzzles. down by the hems of their dresses their claws flex.

“yep, almost as bad as ‘78.” says the old man. his eyes are frozen shut, you are wearing three shirts under two jackets. it’s august.

you’re walking along the charles at night, the staggered pyramid of the hyatt reflects off clean water. you remember how it used to be multicolored and scummed with oil and fish kills. it’s okay now. something flickers through those bright squares of light, one, two, all. the muddy water churns. it’s okay now. we cleaned it, we cleaned it, it’s fixed.