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pronounsthey/them
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i’ve only skimmed this thread bc there are too many posts in it so im just going to drop my opinion about site content tolerance and peace out

keeping a site safe for people is a lot of work. a lot of free labor, even. and having to differentiate between the grey areas of "good faith rping with consent and appropriate tagging among all parties involved" versus "bad faith actors foisting potentially harmful preferences on others with little consideration for consent or safety" is even MORE work. it's work that i'm occasionally (but not always) willing to do as an admin but i completely understand why other people might not want to deal with it. after having staffed a site and nearly died in the process i just think that admins should have absolute say in what they’re willing to volunteer labor for. and if there’s specific food that someone wants to eat, they should buy a premade skin off tumblr and make their own site. in the world of rp you get what you’re willing to put work towards.
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when you've been sitting with a specific character concept for months but no home to give them :'(
how mine own heart fondly wishes it's my wife :catstand:
my wild rose-briar in the gentle spring and scorching summer
and my holly tree bearing fruit under yuletide frost .
glistening crimson crystals in morning dew ,
when the air is faintly crisp with the taste of midnight snow .



you give me sunday fanart but phim gets this???????????
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#openrp #casual #group #funny #characterdevelopment #openlore #oc&canon #adventure #fantasyrp

Food. The mortal prerequisite, yet even the gods choose to eat. For living beings, it is a celebration of a moment, made ordinary by the frequency of death upon their existence. To consume and be alive for another day longer and satisfy the ill-tempered body being made to work for a continued survival. Food is simple joy. Food is proof of yearning. Food is…

“How do you feel about eggs? Yay or nay? Bread? Pasta?” The broad-shouldered man, equipped in heavy armor and a frying pan sword, lifts a crock pot above his head. Stripped tentacles jiggle by his hips, strapped around him in red ribbbons.

“Do you like spicy food?”


Dimos wrinkled his nose. Briefly, he wondered if the chef de cuisine in this goddess-forsaken place was trying to kill him. It was entirely possible, but there were easier methods than preparing an entire meal for him.

He's eaten leftover gristle before. Rotten cabbages when the alternative was starvation. Stale bread was once his treasure, a promise of another day. But at least all of those things didn't try to suffocate him with capsaicin. 

"I'm not picky. But hold the spice." Please.

He didn't stare at the tentacles because it was impolite. But it did make him feel woefully underdressed in the Elysian Fields. Shangri-la. El Dorado. Arcadia. Fiddler's Green. Whatever this was.
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i see a whole lot of yapping and not a whole lot of thread starting
okay but do u know that the cost is minute, merely a personal ... and eternal sacrifice ???? if this paradise is to be maintained for everyone , someone must remain trapped in solitary wakening , until the end of the cosmos ??????



(affectionately) i’ll kill you
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haven’t rp’d in months. does anyone want to thread (right here on pixel-perfect)
i'm so starved for cae rp i just decided to write a starter. bon appetit

The skies were rainy and grey, as if this were a tragedy rather than a comfortable ending to a series of horrific crimes. Specks of water drizzled from the sky, their intentions without malice or deceit, only to mix comfortably with the muddy filth upon the earth. It speaks to the tragedy of this world that mankind is much the same. For no child is born with an evil heart, yet the majority of men leave the world a pitiful sinner.

Sovana was a small, out of the way village in the westerly plains of Etruria. Farming hamlet that it was, it felt unsuitable for judging such a prolific traitor. Yet it was widely understood that if they attempted to transport him to the capital, then it was likely that he would cut all their throats and escape. If they intended to execute him at all, then they had to hold the trial immediately.

Lucius stood upon the wet podium and ignored the cold wetness that was beginning to accumulate at the back of his neck. His voice was dusty with disuse, but it grew stronger as he read out the charges.

“We have convened here so that the accused may stand trial according to the fair and equitable laws of the Republic of Etruria-Hadasht.”

A strong wind howled as it tore through the village square, drowning approximately half of his words out. Lucius clenched his teeth in order to prevent them from chattering. Whatever his desire for a hot bed and a mug of hot mead, he intended to see this through.

“He is accused of extorting members of the Senate, assassinating a representative of the tribune, and plotting conspiracies against the Republic.”

The magistrate squinted at the prisoner through the rain, his health poor and his clothes ragged even at this (safe) distance.

“What do you have to say in your defense?”