Not the kind of feathers meant for flying, but for wrapping others in warmth when the cold finds them first. Your body bristles with the pale down of an angel, soft enough to soothe a storm. They come to you with trembling hands and hollow bellies, and you let them tear pieces from your shoulders, pluck warmth from your spine, until blood beads like rubies along your ribs, and still—still—you offer more. You were taught love is giving without end. But no one warned you what it would cost to be consumed. You’re so used to shivering, you’ve forgotten you were once whole. You should be furious. You should let the frost take them for once. You should say no. But the word lodges in your throat like a broken wing. And still, you reach out— because their comfort has always mattered more than your survival.
I got feathers too. The dialogue at the end for it is almost poetic.
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Hi there! My name's Elk. I'm NoiSilverheart's doppelgänger. I'm a demi/grayromantic, socially awkward Okie who may or may not be a pyromaniac. *random confetti blast*
I'm a warlock of the Archcrone, and my patron is TheFriendlyArchfey. I was nicknamed AchatesCervus8337 by VitusW and given the titles "Swashbuckling Scorcher", "The Unpredictable Jedi", "Burning Fury of the Ancients", and "Combustion Knight" by DrummerBoyDragonSlayer.
Not the kind that grant wishes— but the kind that die slowly, and live forever in the eyes of those who never really knew them. Your audience watches from below, palms stretched skyward as if they could catch your light in their hands, but you dance out of their reach of understanding. You are distant for a reason. Suspended between being seen and being known, burning quietly with a purpose you can’t name— only feel. They call you beautiful, but you would trade every compliment for a single answer to why you sit up here away from everyone. You don’t mind when they speak to you. You listen, even when your gaze slips— drawn inward, into the quiet cathedral of your mind. They do not understand how holy it is to be lost inside a head like yours. You were born to rewrite the night. When this world cannot hold what you hunger for, you carve it yourself. Your canvas is before you, and your words fill it with color— they may never understand, they may never appreciate it all, but you, at least, will find meaning under the rubble.
Not the kind spoken in pulpits, not kneeling pews or memorized verses— but the quiet kind, the kind that lives in breath between heartbeats, in unseen fingers that catch you when you fall. They scoff at you, those who trust only what can be proven, who measure strength in metal. But there is a resilience in you that they will never let themselves understand. You rise not because you are unbroken, but because something within you insists that it all means something. Faith is not weakness. It is not blindness. It is standing barefoot in the storm with arms thrown wide— because somewhere in your chest, you know the rain will stop. You read omens in the sway of trees, in the rhythm of rain that murmurs where you should go next. You trust the timing of the moon. You believe the earth stood here waiting for your arrival just as planned. And that belief— that soul-deep certainty— protects you better than armor ever could. Your heartbreak was not meaningless. Your scars are not flaws. They are markings on a map that only you can read. Be proud, faithful one. Others chase proof. You walk with meaning. You are never alone— even when no one else walks beside you.
Not the kind that grant wishes— but the kind that die slowly, and live forever in the eyes of those who never really knew them. Your audience watches from below, palms stretched skyward as if they could catch your light in their hands, but you dance out of their reach of understanding. You are distant for a reason. Suspended between being seen and being known, burning quietly with a purpose you can’t name— only feel. They call you beautiful, but you would trade every compliment for a single answer to why you sit up here away from everyone. You don’t mind when they speak to you. You listen, even when your gaze slips— drawn inward, into the quiet cathedral of your mind. They do not understand how holy it is to be lost inside a head like yours. You were born to rewrite the night. When this world cannot hold what you hunger for, you carve it yourself. Your canvas is before you, and your words fill it with color— they may never understand, they may never appreciate it all, but you, at least, will find meaning under the rubble.
I too got stars
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Somewhere between a genius and a moron.
It was me Barry! I Jumped Jack Flash!
If I pretend my problems don’t exist and walk fast enough, they’ll eventually disappear
Not the kind spoken in pulpits, not kneeling pews or memorized verses— but the quiet kind, the kind that lives in breath between heartbeats, in unseen fingers that catch you when you fall. They scoff at you, those who trust only what can be proven, who measure strength in metal. But there is a resilience in you that they will never let themselves understand. You rise not because you are unbroken, but because something within you insists that it all means something. Faith is not weakness. It is not blindness. It is standing barefoot in the storm with arms thrown wide— because somewhere in your chest, you know the rain will stop. You read omens in the sway of trees, in the rhythm of rain that murmurs where you should go next. You trust the timing of the moon. You believe the earth stood here waiting for your arrival just as planned. And that belief— that soul-deep certainty— protects you better than armor ever could. Your heartbreak was not meaningless. Your scars are not flaws. They are markings on a map that only you can read. Be proud, faithful one. Others chase proof. You walk with meaning. You are never alone— even when no one else walks beside you.
If you don’t know where I am, I’m either sleeping or roleplaying. If I’m doing neither of those things, except the worst. (Do not actually expect the worst) If you need to talk then PM me. Head Acolyte of The Tree Cult.
Not the kind that grant wishes— but the kind that die slowly, and live forever in the eyes of those who never really knew them. Your audience watches from below, palms stretched skyward as if they could catch your light in their hands, but you dance out of their reach of understanding. You are distant for a reason. Suspended between being seen and being known, burning quietly with a purpose you can’t name— only feel. They call you beautiful, but you would trade every compliment for a single answer to why you sit up here away from everyone. You don’t mind when they speak to you. You listen, even when your gaze slips— drawn inward, into the quiet cathedral of your mind. They do not understand how holy it is to be lost inside a head like yours. You were born to rewrite the night. When this world cannot hold what you hunger for, you carve it yourself. Your canvas is before you, and your words fill it with color— they may never understand, they may never appreciate it all, but you, at least, will find meaning under the rubble.
I too got stars
so did I
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Owen is here. enjoy my favorite game. I like DND. PM ME THE WORD TOMATO.
Not the kind that grant wishes— but the kind that die slowly, and live forever in the eyes of those who never really knew them. Your audience watches from below, palms stretched skyward as if they could catch your light in their hands, but you dance out of their reach of understanding. You are distant for a reason. Suspended between being seen and being known, burning quietly with a purpose you can’t name— only feel. They call you beautiful, but you would trade every compliment for a single answer to why you sit up here away from everyone. You don’t mind when they speak to you. You listen, even when your gaze slips— drawn inward, into the quiet cathedral of your mind. They do not understand how holy it is to be lost inside a head like yours. You were born to rewrite the night. When this world cannot hold what you hunger for, you carve it yourself. Your canvas is before you, and your words fill it with color— they may never understand, they may never appreciate it all, but you, at least, will find meaning under the rubble.
Not the kind of feathers meant for flying, but for wrapping others in warmth when the cold finds them first. Your body bristles with the pale down of an angel, soft enough to soothe a storm. They come to you with trembling hands and hollow bellies, and you let them tear pieces from your shoulders, pluck warmth from your spine, until blood beads like rubies along your ribs, and still—still—you offer more. You were taught love is giving without end. But no one warned you what it would cost to be consumed. You’re so used to shivering, you’ve forgotten you were once whole. You should be furious. You should let the frost take them for once. You should say no. But the word lodges in your throat like a broken wing. And still, you reach out— because their comfort has always mattered more than your survival.
I got feathers too. The dialogue at the end for it is almost poetic.
Also feathers lmao, those were some tough questions
Not the kind of feathers meant for flying, but for wrapping others in warmth when the cold finds them first. Your body bristles with the pale down of an angel, soft enough to soothe a storm. They come to you with trembling hands and hollow bellies, and you let them tear pieces from your shoulders, pluck warmth from your spine, until blood beads like rubies along your ribs, and still—still—you offer more. You were taught love is giving without end. But no one warned you what it would cost to be consumed. You’re so used to shivering, you’ve forgotten you were once whole. You should be furious. You should let the frost take them for once. You should say no. But the word lodges in your throat like a broken wing. And still, you reach out— because their comfort has always mattered more than your survival.
I got feathers too. The dialogue at the end for it is almost poetic.
Also feathers lmao, those were some tough questions
Not the kind of feathers meant for flying, but for wrapping others in warmth when the cold finds them first. Your body bristles with the pale down of an angel, soft enough to soothe a storm. They come to you with trembling hands and hollow bellies, and you let them tear pieces from your shoulders, pluck warmth from your spine, until blood beads like rubies along your ribs, and still—still—you offer more. You were taught love is giving without end. But no one warned you what it would cost to be consumed. You’re so used to shivering, you’ve forgotten you were once whole. You should be furious. You should let the frost take them for once. You should say no. But the word lodges in your throat like a broken wing. And still, you reach out— because their comfort has always mattered more than your survival.
I got feathers too. The dialogue at the end for it is almost poetic.
Also feathers lmao, those were some tough questions
Huh. Are we all feathers?
It seems most of us are either feathers, stars, or faith.
I love the like quiz/question whatever you call it, but its really annoying because unless they're like a very big project with tons of people, there is always a question that has no answer you relate to
Obviously the quizzes aren't that precise anyway, but its still annoying
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3 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, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3 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, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
I got feathers too. The dialogue at the end for it is almost poetic.
Hi there! My name's Elk. I'm NoiSilverheart's doppelgänger. I'm a demi/grayromantic, socially awkward Okie who may or may not be a pyromaniac. *random confetti blast*
I'm a warlock of the Archcrone, and my patron is TheFriendlyArchfey. I was nicknamed AchatesCervus8337 by VitusW and given the titles "Swashbuckling Scorcher", "The Unpredictable Jedi", "Burning Fury of the Ancients", and "Combustion Knight" by DrummerBoyDragonSlayer.
Extended sig
Stars
Not the kind that grant wishes— but the kind that die slowly, and live forever in the eyes of those who never really knew them. Your audience watches from below, palms stretched skyward as if they could catch your light in their hands, but you dance out of their reach of understanding. You are distant for a reason. Suspended between being seen and being known, burning quietly with a purpose you can’t name— only feel. They call you beautiful, but you would trade every compliment for a single answer to why you sit up here away from everyone. You don’t mind when they speak to you. You listen, even when your gaze slips— drawn inward, into the quiet cathedral of your mind. They do not understand how holy it is to be lost inside a head like yours. You were born to rewrite the night. When this world cannot hold what you hunger for, you carve it yourself. Your canvas is before you, and your words fill it with color— they may never understand, they may never appreciate it all, but you, at least, will find meaning under the rubble.
Hi, I’m DrakenBrine, here’s my Sig and characters
I am The Grand Envisioner!
Faith
they/her Always open to chat. Just send me a PM
I too got stars
Somewhere between a genius and a moron.
It was me Barry! I Jumped Jack Flash!
If I pretend my problems don’t exist and walk fast enough, they’ll eventually disappear
Your honor, shut up, you wasn't even there
It’s only a war crime if you lose
Same
Lightning flashes, it creates ash. The ash forms a human.
If you don’t know where I am, I’m either sleeping or roleplaying. If I’m doing neither of those things, except the worst. (Do not actually expect the worst) If you need to talk then PM me. Head Acolyte of The Tree Cult.
so did I
Owen is here. enjoy my favorite game. I like DND. PM ME THE WORD TOMATO.
Good morning everyone
they/her Always open to chat. Just send me a PM
Are we okay?
Hi, I’m DrakenBrine, here’s my Sig and characters
I am The Grand Envisioner!
Mornin’
Hi, I’m DrakenBrine, here’s my Sig and characters
I am The Grand Envisioner!
How are you doing
they/her Always open to chat. Just send me a PM
Also feathers lmao, those were some tough questions
Xaul Lackluster: Half-Orc Fathomless Warlock: Warlock Dragon Heist
Pushover Gerilwitz: Tiefling Wizard: Acquisitions Incorporated
Sparkles: Aasimar Monk: Drakkenheim: What's In The Here And Now
Angus Ayrshire: Minotaur Celestial Sorcerer: Yawning Portal - Mad Mage
DMing A Land Of Bone And Oblivion, The Hunt for the Balowang and Surviving Tempest City!
Killer Queen has already extended this signature, though not by much!
Huh. Are we all feathers?
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Forever burdenless and terminally live!
It seems most of us are either feathers, stars, or faith.
Hi, I’m DrakenBrine, here’s my Sig and characters
I am The Grand Envisioner!
all of us got feathers, stars or faith
Owen is here. enjoy my favorite game. I like DND. PM ME THE WORD TOMATO.
Now the question is what do are characters get?
Hi, I’m DrakenBrine, here’s my Sig and characters
I am The Grand Envisioner!
I love the like quiz/question whatever you call it, but its really annoying because unless they're like a very big project with tons of people, there is always a question that has no answer you relate to
Obviously the quizzes aren't that precise anyway, but its still annoying
The thunderclouds broke up
And the rain dried up
The lighting let up
The clacking shutters just shut up
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3
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, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
no my meme got marked spam lets try again
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3
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, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose