I'm Going To Asphyxiate Xdddd

I'm pretty sure it's like that when I send screens/talk about story/lore to my friends xd

How my Limbus posts probably sound to my non-Project Moon fan mutuals

Bleebus Blorbus the Flesh-Rending Giraffe is a metaphor for childhood neglect and toxic relationships, which is very fitting how its E.G.O. Skin-Eater went to Tom Sawyer. Skin-Eater Tom Sawyer synergizes really well with Ten-o-Clock Flash Mob Office Fixer Tom Identity for Bleed and Rupture damage and may also give her ties to The Hat Man in her upcoming Canto.

Umm, Hello!

If you somehow wound up on this one, please consider heading on to the sideblog, which is actually being updated:

@thehangedwords

I don't know, maybe I'll start doing something here in the future?

writhing, decaying in endless cycles

roles reversed, crumbling in dust enough to cave in the lungs of titans. don't force me to breathe anyway, it's pointless in the grand scheme of cigar marketing. all for standing outside and watching the rays of sun stretch their limbs and lie down for the evening but the true beauty comes when all the pawn shops facing east are religiously nocturnal.

a hopper of trains, we can be out of here, we can be slugs happily avoiding the minefield of saltshakers set up to watch us perish. a tale as old as grandfather's medals, tears stinging eyes, hometown roaches feasting on nuclear Thanksgiving; part the lips and caught the tongue trembling common knowledge. that the boxing gloves hooked on the wall have touched their fair share of tender cheeks and retiring will only cause the maroon to solidify.

nap away the wrongdoings of foreign-feeling nausea. spin the story like a top on the evening reporter's desk laden with load-bearing ash-pokes the size of his ideals surrendering to keyboard gestures of love and floundering reputation.

Wonderful

“Wonderful” is how I’d like to respond

When someone asks about my day

But lately I've found there's nothing around

That appeals to my sense of play

I need something new to believe in

And I suppose it must be myself

There's nothing else to be done

And little more to say

But I've got to get out of the hole somehow

And I'm doing it starting today

Ephemeral blooms

Dress the portico pallid

Yesterday's resolve in soft translation,

Have I always dreamt of fervour

Have I always ached for more

I meet the teasing loss

From where it lingers,

Self evolved lament

It will often be a season

The curious untethered

Reaching out for loves return

@trash-ainu and @constancya

I don’t need therapy. I need my husband (archive of our own) to return from war (the server is currently down) and come home to his devoted wife (an ao3 user who was in the middle of reading a gay sex scene). it’s been almost two years (20 minutes) since he (ao3) has been taken from me

Unknown Author - Poetry

The music’s still playing as her feet walk out to the sea At the fringe of a lifetime, as her lips whisper to the breeze Does the world turn this calm or’s it the slow rush of the sea Follow me out here Follow me deep