*Hey I’m back, anybody want to rp while I’m here?*
*Sure ig. Sorry, I'm kind apathetic rn.*
*No need to apologize, I feel that all the time, I just pretend I don’t, want anyone in particular?*
*Anyone is fine.*
The Porcelain Child is working on his pottery, capable of doing more than the average person due to being an amalgamation of magical artifacts and flesh. Their pottery is amazingly crafted.
Sparrow is in the library again, leaning how to read arduously, every moment more difficult than the last as he slowly pieces words together on the pages, holding his head to keep his dirty brown hair out of his face.
*Hey I’m back, anybody want to rp while I’m here?*
*Sure! I've got about an hour!*
*Hadal has been developing rapidly.*
*Ive got about an hour too.*
*Do you want anyone, cause I’ve been feeling some Wild West vibes recently.*
*Bring me Sparrow and Thane! Fly, my pretties! Fly!*
*Coming right up.*
Sparrow is sitting on the porch, having a smoke and thinking about what he’ll have to do in the likely situation he is forced to confront his sisters. Part of him still loves them despite what they’ve done, and that makes it hard to make any choice. He stares pensively into the distance.
Thane is sharpening his axe, runes of infernal power humming on his newly repaired body, though not fully healed, he can feel things other than pain again, his eyes are still broken, but he doesn’t always bleed anymore.
*Hey I’m back, anybody want to rp while I’m here?*
*Sure ig. Sorry, I'm kind apathetic rn.*
*No need to apologize, I feel that all the time, I just pretend I don’t, want anyone in particular?*
*Anyone is fine.*
The Porcelain Child is working on his pottery, capable of doing more than the average person due to being an amalgamation of magical artifacts and flesh. Their pottery is amazingly crafted.
Sparrow is in the library again, leaning how to read arduously, every moment more difficult than the last as he slowly pieces words together on the pages, holding his head to keep his dirty brown hair out of his face.
Ichigo watches over them, applauding them along the way. He and his cat sits to the right of them, keeping watch of the doors and windows.
Stroth watches over his shoulder, helping him with words he doesn't understand.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
*Hey I’m back, anybody want to rp while I’m here?*
*Sure ig. Sorry, I'm kind apathetic rn.*
*No need to apologize, I feel that all the time, I just pretend I don’t, want anyone in particular?*
*Anyone is fine.*
The Porcelain Child is working on his pottery, capable of doing more than the average person due to being an amalgamation of magical artifacts and flesh. Their pottery is amazingly crafted.
Sparrow is in the library again, leaning how to read arduously, every moment more difficult than the last as he slowly pieces words together on the pages, holding his head to keep his dirty brown hair out of his face.
Ichigo watches over them, applauding them along the way. He and his cat sits to the right of them, keeping watch of the doors and windows.
Stroth watches over his shoulder, helping him with words he doesn't understand.
The Porcelain Child then to them, holding another completed vase as they walk over, their joints humming with powerful magic as they sit down in front of Ichigo.
He holds up the book, confused “But… why is it spelled tomb but pronounced toom? An’ why is bomb not pronounced boom?”
He sinks to the grass beside her, steepling his warped graspers pensively. "My Farmind- that is what we call them- was a being from the depths of the ocean. He lived on the Abyssal Plain, alone and hated. It was called the Abyss, and its depth was named after it. It was the reverse for me, as I arose from beneath where he slept, the Hadal Zone. I was the only one of my brood that survived, to my knowledge. This world, despite its cruelty, gave me kindness when I was ejected onto The Beach of Reality. My siblings, in their hundreds of fleshy droves, were not properly mixed. Reality and dream-reality mashed together in a way that makes sense only on one side. When they tried to come onto The Beach, they were... well, beached. They never made it on this miserable plane, never saw how beautiful it could be, with its light and color and art and wonderful little cogs of sense meshing together."
Omori is quiet for a while, thinking. "I'm terribly sorry that happened." Is all she can muster to say.
"There is nothing to be sorry for. I loved my siblings, but I could not protect them forever. In the end, only I was destined to stand on this earth. Only I. But in the future, more Paracosma will be born, and they will beach themselves as my family did. But I can make safer banks for them, grounds upon which to grow and adapt, as I have. But I don't know how to do that, really. I need to... study. Learn. Anatomy and physics. Math and arcana."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
She seems unnerved by the golem's pain (or, at least, its convincing emulation of pain). "...Heartstone?"
"Yes! It can be any precious or nonprecious stone, as long as it's carved with the proper runes. This one's heart is the finest sapphire I could get my paws on, you know. The heartstone gives the golem the ability to not only move, but to emote and think and feel like a living thing. Of course, they're not really living. But that does mean they can't die, so there's the upside."
*boink*
*sigh*
*Oh, sorry about that.*
She nods thoughtfully. "I see... does the kind of gemstone matter? Do different gems suit different designs of golems?"
"I love your curiosity, little lady! " he smiles, "They do! The more precious the stone, the more expressive and close to alive they get. That's why I use only the best stones for my golems. They're real quality" he taps the golem with a claw. The golem seems to be preoccupied feeling their new ear and doesn't notice or care.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'm fry, and I make doodles. That's why they call me FRY DOODLES. Also no pressure but check out my YouTube channel (Fry Doodles) Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, your favorite pretty boy, and certified silly goose
Sparrow is sitting on the porch, having a smoke and thinking about what he’ll have to do in the likely situation he is forced to confront his sisters. Part of him still loves them despite what they’ve done, and that makes it hard to make any choice. He stares pensively into the distance.
Thane is sharpening his axe, runes of infernal power humming on his newly repaired body, though not fully healed, he can feel things other than pain again, his eyes are still broken, but he doesn’t always bleed anymore.
The space far in front of him seems to shift, as if something were half there, half-not. Like a dream.
Granny Greasegrip suddenly jumps out of nowhere and grabs the axe out of his hands, laughing maniacally as she throws it into a nearby tree. "How's my grandson?!"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*i sure love puking out all the contents of my stomach the moment i get back home and nearly passing out of dehydration. truly a Thanksgiving to remember*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*i sure love puking out all the contents of my stomach the moment i get back home and nearly passing out of dehydration. truly a Thanksgiving to remember*
*I'm sorry to hear that happened to you.*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*Hey I’m back, anybody want to rp while I’m here?*
*Sure ig. Sorry, I'm kind apathetic rn.*
*No need to apologize, I feel that all the time, I just pretend I don’t, want anyone in particular?*
*Anyone is fine.*
The Porcelain Child is working on his pottery, capable of doing more than the average person due to being an amalgamation of magical artifacts and flesh. Their pottery is amazingly crafted.
Sparrow is in the library again, leaning how to read arduously, every moment more difficult than the last as he slowly pieces words together on the pages, holding his head to keep his dirty brown hair out of his face.
Ichigo watches over them, applauding them along the way. He and his cat sits to the right of them, keeping watch of the doors and windows.
Stroth watches over his shoulder, helping him with words he doesn't understand.
The Porcelain Child then to them, holding another completed vase as they walk over, their joints humming with powerful magic as they sit down in front of Ichigo.
He holds up the book, confused “But… why is it spelled tomb but pronounced toom? An’ why is bomb not pronounced boom?”
Ichigo tilts their head and nods "That is... very well made. Could hold.. water for .... twenty ..people to drink... from..."
"The common language is weird, Tomb and Bomb both have the same ending letters but the pronunciation is different. It's because they can have two different ways of sounding."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
Sparrow is sitting on the porch, having a smoke and thinking about what he’ll have to do in the likely situation he is forced to confront his sisters. Part of him still loves them despite what they’ve done, and that makes it hard to make any choice. He stares pensively into the distance.
Thane is sharpening his axe, runes of infernal power humming on his newly repaired body, though not fully healed, he can feel things other than pain again, his eyes are still broken, but he doesn’t always bleed anymore.
The space far in front of him seems to shift, as if something were half there, half-not. Like a dream.
Granny Greasegrip suddenly jumps out of nowhere and grabs the axe out of his hands, laughing maniacally as she throws it into a nearby tree. "How's my grandson?!"
He squints at the space, holding out his hand into it out of the curiosity to see what may happen, or what may be within.
He jumps and hugs her tightly, smiling from ear to ear with dragonic teeth “Granny!” The infernal runes fade, red dragon warmth in his heat “I’m doing good, thank you so much.” His rumbling seems to be less, now that his jaw works again.
*i sure love puking out all the contents of my stomach the moment i get back home and nearly passing out of dehydration. truly a Thanksgiving to remember*
*Oh no, are you alright?*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
*Hey I’m back, anybody want to rp while I’m here?*
*Sure ig. Sorry, I'm kind apathetic rn.*
*No need to apologize, I feel that all the time, I just pretend I don’t, want anyone in particular?*
*Anyone is fine.*
The Porcelain Child is working on his pottery, capable of doing more than the average person due to being an amalgamation of magical artifacts and flesh. Their pottery is amazingly crafted.
Sparrow is in the library again, leaning how to read arduously, every moment more difficult than the last as he slowly pieces words together on the pages, holding his head to keep his dirty brown hair out of his face.
Ichigo watches over them, applauding them along the way. He and his cat sits to the right of them, keeping watch of the doors and windows.
Stroth watches over his shoulder, helping him with words he doesn't understand.
The Porcelain Child then to them, holding another completed vase as they walk over, their joints humming with powerful magic as they sit down in front of Ichigo.
He holds up the book, confused “But… why is it spelled tomb but pronounced toom? An’ why is bomb not pronounced boom?”
Ichigo tilts their head and nods "That is... very well made. Could hold.. water for .... twenty ..people to drink... from..."
"The common language is weird, Tomb and Bomb both have the same ending letters but the pronunciation is different. It's because they can have two different ways of sounding."
He holds it out to them, smiling revealing the pulsating flesh underneath their plastic skin “I… I want you… to have it.” They place it in front of them.
“Why is it written the same way if it sounds different? That ain’t make any sense.” He sighs, putting the book down, closing it and putting it in his back pocket “I think I’m done tryin’ to read taday.”
*Hey I’m back, anybody want to rp while I’m here?*
*Sure ig. Sorry, I'm kind apathetic rn.*
*No need to apologize, I feel that all the time, I just pretend I don’t, want anyone in particular?*
*Anyone is fine.*
The Porcelain Child is working on his pottery, capable of doing more than the average person due to being an amalgamation of magical artifacts and flesh. Their pottery is amazingly crafted.
Sparrow is in the library again, leaning how to read arduously, every moment more difficult than the last as he slowly pieces words together on the pages, holding his head to keep his dirty brown hair out of his face.
Ichigo watches over them, applauding them along the way. He and his cat sits to the right of them, keeping watch of the doors and windows.
Stroth watches over his shoulder, helping him with words he doesn't understand.
The Porcelain Child then to them, holding another completed vase as they walk over, their joints humming with powerful magic as they sit down in front of Ichigo.
He holds up the book, confused “But… why is it spelled tomb but pronounced toom? An’ why is bomb not pronounced boom?”
Ichigo tilts their head and nods "That is... very well made. Could hold.. water for .... twenty ..people to drink... from..."
"The common language is weird, Tomb and Bomb both have the same ending letters but the pronunciation is different. It's because they can have two different ways of sounding."
He holds it out to them, smiling revealing the pulsating flesh underneath their plastic skin “I… I want you… to have it.” They place it in front of them.
“Why is it written the same way if it sounds different? That ain’t make any sense.” He sighs, putting the book down, closing it and putting it in his back pocket “I think I’m done tryin’ to read taday.”
They blinks, the pinpricks of light that are his eyes focusing on it like it is a gem in his metal palms. "Thank....you." they say quietly.
She chuckles "I know but some old guy in a tower somewhere was like 'Wlel I think it's this' and then it was that.'
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
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*Sure! I've got about an hour!*
*Hadal has been developing rapidly.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*Anyone is fine.*
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
*Ive got about an hour too.*
*Do you want anyone, cause I’ve been feeling some Wild West vibes recently.*
*Bring me Sparrow and Thane! Fly, my pretties! Fly!*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The Porcelain Child is working on his pottery, capable of doing more than the average person due to being an amalgamation of magical artifacts and flesh. Their pottery is amazingly crafted.
Sparrow is in the library again, leaning how to read arduously, every moment more difficult than the last as he slowly pieces words together on the pages, holding his head to keep his dirty brown hair out of his face.
*Coming right up.*
Sparrow is sitting on the porch, having a smoke and thinking about what he’ll have to do in the likely situation he is forced to confront his sisters. Part of him still loves them despite what they’ve done, and that makes it hard to make any choice. He stares pensively into the distance.
Thane is sharpening his axe, runes of infernal power humming on his newly repaired body, though not fully healed, he can feel things other than pain again, his eyes are still broken, but he doesn’t always bleed anymore.
Ichigo watches over them, applauding them along the way. He and his cat sits to the right of them, keeping watch of the doors and windows.
Stroth watches over his shoulder, helping him with words he doesn't understand.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
The Porcelain Child then to them, holding another completed vase as they walk over, their joints humming with powerful magic as they sit down in front of Ichigo.
He holds up the book, confused “But… why is it spelled tomb but pronounced toom? An’ why is bomb not pronounced boom?”
"There is nothing to be sorry for. I loved my siblings, but I could not protect them forever. In the end, only I was destined to stand on this earth. Only I. But in the future, more Paracosma will be born, and they will beach themselves as my family did. But I can make safer banks for them, grounds upon which to grow and adapt, as I have. But I don't know how to do that, really. I need to... study. Learn. Anatomy and physics. Math and arcana."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"I love your curiosity, little lady! " he smiles, "They do! The more precious the stone, the more expressive and close to alive they get. That's why I use only the best stones for my golems. They're real quality" he taps the golem with a claw. The golem seems to be preoccupied feeling their new ear and doesn't notice or care.
I'm fry, and I make doodles. That's why they call me FRY DOODLES. Also no pressure but check out my YouTube channel (Fry Doodles)
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, artsy dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown. But, I'm also god's favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world.
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, your favorite pretty boy, and certified silly goose
*some stuffs*
Georgie is enjoying the cold air
Tycho is hungover on a roof
Constant is reading a book on magic
The space far in front of him seems to shift, as if something were half there, half-not. Like a dream.
Granny Greasegrip suddenly jumps out of nowhere and grabs the axe out of his hands, laughing maniacally as she throws it into a nearby tree. "How's my grandson?!"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*i sure love puking out all the contents of my stomach the moment i get back home and nearly passing out of dehydration. truly a Thanksgiving to remember*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*I'm sorry to hear that happened to you.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Ichigo tilts their head and nods "That is... very well made. Could hold.. water for .... twenty ..people to drink... from..."
"The common language is weird, Tomb and Bomb both have the same ending letters but the pronunciation is different. It's because they can have two different ways of sounding."
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
Yuri appears by her son's side as a majestic white deer.
Scott appears beside him, sighing "Again?" He mutters softly and picks him up.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
He squints at the space, holding out his hand into it out of the curiosity to see what may happen, or what may be within.
He jumps and hugs her tightly, smiling from ear to ear with dragonic teeth “Granny!” The infernal runes fade, red dragon warmth in his heat “I’m doing good, thank you so much.” His rumbling seems to be less, now that his jaw works again.
*Oh no, are you alright?*
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
He holds it out to them, smiling revealing the pulsating flesh underneath their plastic skin “I… I want you… to have it.” They place it in front of them.
“Why is it written the same way if it sounds different? That ain’t make any sense.” He sighs, putting the book down, closing it and putting it in his back pocket “I think I’m done tryin’ to read taday.”
They blinks, the pinpricks of light that are his eyes focusing on it like it is a gem in his metal palms. "Thank....you." they say quietly.
She chuckles "I know but some old guy in a tower somewhere was like 'Wlel I think it's this' and then it was that.'
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]