FOX CONFESSOR PLEASE,

Holy objects, sacraments, a miracle in confinement.

mother knows best

i’m going into the ground for you.

i know you’re real, you’re right there — only you aren’t, you’re not even close.

you know some of my secrets, i know some of your secrets.

you hear me, so i’m real. at least a tiny bit.

if i met myself on the street, would i know me?

you with your distance, you with your high ground.

there’s too much white noise in our heads.

i’m making you an accomplice in this. i’m making you culpable.

live inside yourself for long enough and you’ll start seeing anything external, anything even remotely out of the ordinary, as a sign.

nothing can we call our own but death, and that small model of the barren earth which serves as paste and cover to our bones.

there’s something a bit fairy tale about it.

i didn’t tell you this before, but you were in my dream last night.

it’s a weird feeling to miss someone you never even met.

you know how sounds get stuck in the walls of old houses.

i think about it and it’s like my ribs close up on themselves. like my heart forgets how to pump blood.

we’re microscopic. we disappear so easily.

have fun, but never, ever let your guard down.

life is unfair. life has no obligation to be fair.

i’ll tell you, and then the spell will be broken. the princess will walk out of the tower.

it used to be interesting, and then, like everything else, the slow march of time killed it.

you cannot have this one last piece of myself that i have kept.

i am not moon and mirror, i am flesh and bone.

you have to follow the rules, you invented the rules. you have to follow them.

i used to talk to the girl in the mirror when i was a child, all the time. i knew, always, that she and i weren’t the same. i knew that her face wasn’t mine.

catharsis. god knows i’m due for some, right?

have you ever seen a moon so red it made your blood look white?

there’s more than one way to kill someone.

i am not myself. i don’t think i’ve been my real self for a very long time.

we’re bad gods. we let all our works rot into the ground.

the house isn’t haunted, but it is a haunting, in itself. it remembers everything.

from Anne Carson’s H of H Playbook

rp sentence starters using lines from amrit brar’s series , shitty horoscopes part one  ( 1 - 5 ) / part two  ( 6 - 12 )

Disclaimer: Some quotes come from a dnd game me & my friends are in!

"This may be my most controversial question..."

"I have a question about your choices."

"I don't know what you have, but whatever you have, you have it intensely."

"This shit is very fucked up."

"It's okay to admit to me that you were embellishing the story."

"I don't know what to say."

"Why are you hanging out of a car?"

"That's how you lose your fingers."

"I would like you to remain having all of your fingers."

"The posts you make on social media give me chest pain."

"Has [ name ] come to see you yet?"

"Stroke stroke or heat stroke? There's a difference."

"You are very excited about your tattoo."

"How many small tattoos do you have to have to be able to say you're tatted?"

"What kind of stab wound do you have?"

"I don't think you're supposed to superglue a stab wound..."

"I have a few hot takes but you won't understand them because you don't read books."

"Where are you doing this and how?"

"You confuse me."

"Sometimes I think you make up words."

"I don't think I've ever seen you use their, there, and they're correctly."

"There are occasions when you are not stupid."

"You could be less stupid with practice. I believe in you."

"Have you been up to anything else recently?"

"You can tell me, I won't tell anybody."

"Do you know what a 'crash out' is? I'm having one right now."

"Why would I have any reason to know that?"

"I swear to fuck it exists!"

"I swear to god I'm not making this up."