The new forums will be named Coin Return (based on the most recent vote)! You can check on the status and timeline of the transition to the new forums here.
The Guiding Principles and New Rules document is now in effect.
Blue footed boobie [chat]
bloodyroarxx
Casa GrandeRegistered User regular
Casa GrandeRegistered User regular
Its been 10 minutes
The image says it all.
The image says it all.
+9
This discussion has been closed.
Posts
I am not sure why
A combination of tooth pain and girl stuff probably
pfffft typical woman
no really though whats up?
Post it. I will support the legitimacy of your reign.
Oh I mean
Stuff involving another girl
Girl stuff
I have been rapidly... I think "falling in love" is too strong a term, but there is someone and it would be completely unsurprising if it was fucking with my sleep and other biological function
Happy Birthday, Ms. HPLTC24!
did you leave out shiny objects for her to bring back to the nest
B...baka
Tooth stuff and girl pain
Aw, you two make such a cute couple.
Celebrate by reading her a romantic, raven-themed poem.
I read this as "porn" at first, because groggy
I was like k...kinky?
She has a very shiny object en route from Australasia, yus. :winky:
It is actually very important that the modifiers remain where they are in the sentence >.>
I mean we're not a thing! So perhaps this is premature
I suspect we will become one over the next few weeks, though. That appears to be the most obvious path for things.
Corvid Concubines II: Unshaven Ravens
Debbie Does the Baltimore Ravens
Infatuated.
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"—
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven "It's 20 for a handy 50 for a BJ. You can call me Lenore you fuckin' weirdo but don't get creepy about it, and don't mess with my hair I just got it done."
Yes that is a good word
This is not at all the case, that'd be much simpler!
You've gotta let it grow out for about two days
This is bullshit.
winter!
The "good news" is that apparently not-red hair is thinner and requires less heat to kill
I learned recently that that is part of why the process is so painful to me
take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.
Do not take away the rose,
the lance flower that you pluck,
the water that suddenly
bursts forth in joy,
the sudden wave
of silver born in you.
My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.
My love, in the darkest
hour your laughter
opens, and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the stones of the street,
laugh, because your laughter
will be for my hands
like a fresh sword.
Next to the sea in the autumn,
your laughter must raise
its foamy cascade,
and in the spring, love,
I want your laughter like
the flower I was waiting for,
the blue flower, the rose
of my echoing country.
Laugh at the night,
at the day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
boy who loves you,
but when I open
my eyes and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die.
Don't forget to put on your robe and wizard hat.
Check out my site, the Bismuth Heart | My Twitter
My skin is really sensitive tho.
Pros play debate and discourse every day
*narrows eyes, weighs cosh in hand*
Which version?
Choose Your Own Chat 1 Choose Your Own Chat 2 Choose Your Own Chat 3
5e. Grognards can suck it.
Just so cool.