Gnashing on fistfuls of sand, lying on my stomach wishing I was more than this, wishing I didn't have to exist in this state. At once I recite every intrusive thought that has crossed my mind, and the words take the form of a murder of crows. Even still a feather leaves me once in a while.
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slushy97
Mar 07, 2026 10:17PM
what if instead of slushy97 it was called plushy97 and it wrote completed family friendly fluff (NIGHTMARE SITUATION)View all Conversations
Stories by CHAMPAGNE APOCALYPSE
Scatterbrained - An II4 Darkfic
The Blue-Ray wasn't intended for liquids.
Waking up in an unfamiliar hospital, Test Tube struggles to remembe...
Lessons in Silverology.
An anthology of sorts. Featuring your favorite (?) self-loathing spoon.
factory:reset
In between seasons and bodies, Mephone4 takes some time to recuperate before the start of II2.
An inanimate i...