Be Nice

following weird horny furries who are into shit like pooltoys and transformation and stuff is enrichment. the vitamins and minerals of posting

once you get over your ass and realise you will never get some people and that’s ok you are basically immune to right wing fearmongering. otherkin? none of my fucking business

I must not fall victim to disgust. Disgust is the heart-killer. Disgust is the little-death that brings total apathy. I will face my disgust. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the disgust has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

Welcome to the no note rotating vape guys post

There’s all these empty picture frames because no one can fill them. Verso struggled to paint, preferring music. He could never fill all the canvases the way his family expected. They cannot fill his canvas in his absence. You, playing as painted Verso, cannot fill the empty canvases. They cannot fill them because they are consumed in grief, and no longer inspired to create. The canvases remain empty, a mirror reflecting your role in their story.

Are you getting this. He’s not there. Just as you, the player, are not there. Verso isn’t there. There’s his ghost, his echo, his memory, but most importantly there is his absence. But he’s everywhere. It’s HIS canvas. These are HIS creations you’re fighting. His footpaths you’re walking. His friends in your party. His family you have to save. His world, and his worldview. You exist in the vacuum he left behind: in the vast expanse of the canvas; in the black hole which the surviving Dessendre’s circle like a drain. But you do not fill the space. You play as painted verso who cannot fill the space. You can’t solve their grief. You, at best, can save them from the black hole and expel them from its gravity, leaving you behind and erased and absent, with finality.

there isn't a house in new orleans

they call it nothing

They don’t call it anything