You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
Centralia warning light colors
Blue: law enforcement, Princess's guards, park rangers
Red or Red/White: fire, rescue, EMS
Green or Green/Amber: public service vehicles, traffic control, tow trucks, snow plows
Amber: private security, construction and work vehicles, pretty much anything else that requires lights
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
My engineering professor decided today was '90s Friday
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
I don't remember all of them but I know "Fly" by Sugar Ray, "Two Princes" by the Spin Doctors, and "Roll To Me" by Del Amitri were included
I've been fairly productive today. I've admittedly done the bare minimum in terms of schoolcrap, but I have also planted some 4 o'clocks, added more soil to one of my hoyas, cleaned the bathroom counter, and ensured that we'd have our apartment next year by going and talking to the landlady. So I'm sort of proud of myself.
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
I bought my Nexus 7 in August of 2012 and I kept resisting adding profanities to its dictionary
It wasn't until a suicidal rage in April of 2013 that I gave in
Im going to wait to the morning and buy the lothes, because probably i will p8t the wrong address and have them delivered to my old house (the wrong house)
Won first place at a local academic festival for this piece.
A Sound at the Edge of Hearing
The rhythm of my hammer and the heat of the forge gave the smithy a life of its own. I brought the hammer down on the searing metal, and the slight chink echoed and reverberated through the smithy. To many, the heat of a forge was unbearable, but as I toiled for hours on end, it felt as if I could sense all around me through the subtle ebbings of the heat and sound.
The smithy was granted to me on the death of my master, who had taken me in as an infant. My parents had figured me for a changeling by the way my ears tapered, despite both of them being round-eared, and how my behavior always seemed strange and unlike other children. They were advised to cast their possessed child into the river, but the town blacksmith instead took me in as an apprentice.
I rarely spoke, but ores did not ask much of me in the way of conversation, and as such neither did my master. I was taught that I must dedicate all my senses and thoughts to mastering metalwork, which, my master said, was the key to the continued life of the village. It was my master who taught me to allow the heat and clamor wash over me, and reverberate through me, and how to lay eyes only on the metal but to still see everything around me. I was an apprentice for ten years, and my master had taught me all that could be known about the craft.
The rest of the villagers and I had an unspoken agreement; I depended on them for sustenance and shelter, and they depended on me for the tools I gave them. The villagers took from the smithy as they needed, and in turn ensured I was never in want of food, water, or clothing. I worked from dawn to nightfall, rarely stopping.
It was about an hour past noon when I felt the rustle of feet meeting the dirt outside the smithy’s entrance, and a body pushing its way through the door. I looked up and saw a redheaded girl with a knotted brow and a stern countenance, and tapered elvish ears similar to mine. She folded her arms and stared at me intently, and then immediately sat down.
I went back to my work, and I felt the vibrations from the beating of her heart meld with the previously present forces of heat and sound. It seemed to me that she wanted to speak, but had come to the conclusion that she must wear down my willpower until I would have to speak to her first.
I stayed at my work for thirty minutes, while she stubbornly continued to sit there. Still, as the minutes passed by I felt her iron will began to corrode- her stiff composure slackened, and her gaze became less sturdy. She still obstinately refused to talk, but I felt the building exertion this singular focus wrought in her.
It was not my intention to make her break down, as I was curious as to what she sought from me, and I felt that she would leave rather than allow herself to speak. Still, I held on for a few minutes, drawing out her willpower before I spoke up.
Comments
#dillingerescapebanter
Also the logo for the Disney Shorts youtube page looks like goatse
and these
is seeming like a good idea, Y/N
idk
thanks for input i am going to bed
Cops couldn't handle my sweet chemistry.
though there is an meta-universe war ongoing to determine what is
What is that even from?
Occasionally, Waluigi would show up and take over the comic.
There's a hand-drawn charm to those drawings that I like.
Also, luigi has a painting of a butt. YES.
A Sound at the Edge of Hearing
The rhythm of my hammer and the heat of the forge gave the smithy a life of its own. I brought the hammer down on the searing metal, and the slight chink echoed and reverberated through the smithy. To many, the heat of a forge was unbearable, but as I toiled for hours on end, it felt as if I could sense all around me through the subtle ebbings of the heat and sound.
The smithy was granted to me on the death of my master, who had taken me in as an infant. My parents had figured me for a changeling by the way my ears tapered, despite both of them being round-eared, and how my behavior always seemed strange and unlike other children. They were advised to cast their possessed child into the river, but the town blacksmith instead took me in as an apprentice.
I rarely spoke, but ores did not ask much of me in the way of conversation, and as such neither did my master. I was taught that I must dedicate all my senses and thoughts to mastering metalwork, which, my master said, was the key to the continued life of the village. It was my master who taught me to allow the heat and clamor wash over me, and reverberate through me, and how to lay eyes only on the metal but to still see everything around me. I was an apprentice for ten years, and my master had taught me all that could be known about the craft.
The rest of the villagers and I had an unspoken agreement; I depended on them for sustenance and shelter, and they depended on me for the tools I gave them. The villagers took from the smithy as they needed, and in turn ensured I was never in want of food, water, or clothing. I worked from dawn to nightfall, rarely stopping.
It was about an hour past noon when I felt the rustle of feet meeting the dirt outside the smithy’s entrance, and a body pushing its way through the door. I looked up and saw a redheaded girl with a knotted brow and a stern countenance, and tapered elvish ears similar to mine. She folded her arms and stared at me intently, and then immediately sat down.
I went back to my work, and I felt the vibrations from the beating of her heart meld with the previously present forces of heat and sound. It seemed to me that she wanted to speak, but had come to the conclusion that she must wear down my willpower until I would have to speak to her first.
I stayed at my work for thirty minutes, while she stubbornly continued to sit there. Still, as the minutes passed by I felt her iron will began to corrode- her stiff composure slackened, and her gaze became less sturdy. She still obstinately refused to talk, but I felt the building exertion this singular focus wrought in her.
It was not my intention to make her break down, as I was curious as to what she sought from me, and I felt that she would leave rather than allow herself to speak. Still, I held on for a few minutes, drawing out her willpower before I spoke up.