Mike Driver
Xuebing Du
Not today Justin
No title available
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
sheepfilms
Origami Around
occasionally subtle
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
ojovivo
DEAR READER
Claire Keane
taylor price
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Love Begins
izzy's playlists!
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Stranger Things
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
blake kathryn
seen from Canada
seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from Ireland
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from South Korea
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Norway
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Lithuania
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Brazil
seen from Sri Lanka
@gricean-sphinx
The trick is pretending.
Anyone who says, “not me, I’ve figured it out,” they must be lying, right?
All the meaning there is is the weeds— we scatter the seeds in the fields and hope a handful of them are flowers.
The trick is pretending that we’re growing a garden.
The trick is enduring the wither, basking in the bloom.
The trick is loving the wildflower, again and again
and
I waited, but the Spring must have gone with you.
You meet a stranger at the crossroads.
Hiya stranger! You in a hurry to get somewhere? It's getting kinda dark, though. Maybe we can share a campfire for the night? I can spare some food, and we can trade stories.
When the best thing you can say is “at least nobody died,” the situation was bad.
Saturday came sooner than I thought—it often does. The orchid tree bloomed, and shed. I heard the bluebonnets showed early this year.
“Why are you here, now?” The mound of a stag huffed. Its body creaked like the wood of an old tree as it lifted a hoof to stomp the turbid water of the swamp, blooming in ripples.
Briar looked up at the massive figure before them: he was overgrown, moss and fungi hanging off roots and vines that curled up around his legs and torso and neck, a massive crown of charcoal antlers breached out of his skull. The ripples stilled. The stag’s mass groaned.
Doubt gnawed at Briar; they shifted their weight, “for old time’s sake, I suppose.”
Starting with a low rumble, the creature’s body began to quake, straining against itself as the friction of wood against wood echoed across the swamp.
Briar instinctively lowered their hand to the hilt of their sword before they realized the massive stag was… chuckling.
The swamp creature craned his neck downward, leveling his pair of pale green eyes with Briar’s. His eyes glowed and swirled, much like the shallow pools of water rippling around his gnarled, trunk-like legs. “For what love there used to be here, between us,” the stag huffed a breath of hot, humid air, “I will allow you to leave here unharmed. Do not come back.”
Briar’s melancholy eyes hardened abruptly, as a determination solidified in their mind. “They’ll send someone else. They won’t come to talk, but I did. It’s why I came—to try to find—to work this out, peacefully.”
“I do not care for your peace,” the stag spit the last word, contemptuously. “Let them come, I will meet them as they do and let the swamp return their corpses to the flow. I will not give ground. I know what follows if I cede an inch. We have been here before.”
“Schedar, listen. Please. It doesn’t have to go like that. I vouched for you, so we can come to an understand—“
“It is too late.” Schedar turned solemn, stretching his neck back to its full height, brushing the canopy with his charcoal crown. “This boulder has been rolling down the hill, gathering speed, for some time now. No force will stop it as long as gravity pulls. We are powerless except to perhaps change the boulder’s course, and even then at great risk. Be on your way. Do not stake your heart on a lost cause. It is a bad gamble, a losing hand. Forget this place like it is now. Remember it like it was then.”
“Why are you here, now?” The swamp mound of a stag huffed. Its body creaked like the wood of an old tree as it lifted a hoof to stomp the turbid water.
Briar didn’t have an answer—not one he would take well, anyway. They looked up at the massive figure before them: he was overgrown, moss and fungi hanging off roots and vines that curled up around his legs and torso and neck, a massive crown of charcoal antlers breached out of his skull. Doubt gnawed at Briar; was their friend still buried anywhere beneath the weight of the strangling mass of vegetation? They hesitated.
The ripples stilled. The stag’s mass groaned.
Briar shifted their weight, “for old time’s sake, I suppose.”
Suddenly the creature’s body began to quake, straining against itself as the friction of wood against wood echoed across the swamp.
Briar instinctively lowered their hand to the hilt of their sword before they realized the massive stag was actually chuckling.
The creature craned its neck downward, leveling his pair of pale green eyes with Briar’s. The eyes glowed and swirled much like the shallow pools of water rippling around his gnarled, trunk-like legs. He huffed a breath of hot, humid air, “for what love there used to be here, between us, I will allow you to leave the way you came. Do not come back.”
Briar’s eyes hardened. “They’ll send someone else. Someone who won’t be as interested in working things out, peacefully.”
“Let them come, I will meet them and let the swamp return them to the flow. I am not interested in your peace in the slightest. I am not about to give ground to those greedy leeches just because they sent you to pretend to ask nicely.”
“Just, listen. It doesn’t have to go like this. If we can come to a compromise—“
“It is too late. This has been in motion for some time now like a heavy boulder rolling down a hill, and no force will stop it before it reaches the foot. You are powerless except to perhaps change the boulder’s course, and even then at great risk. It would be best if you went on your way. Forget this place like it is now.”
“Why are you here, now?” The swamp mound of a stag huffed. Its body creaked like the wood of an old tree as it lifted a hoof to stomp the turbid water.
Briar didn’t have an answer—not one he would take well, anyway. They looked up at the massive figure before them: he was overgrown, moss and fungi hanging off roots and vines that curled up around his legs and torso and neck, a massive crown of charcoal antlers breached out of his skull. Doubt gnawed at Briar; was their friend still buried anywhere beneath the weight of the strangling mass of vegetation? They hesitated.
The ripples stilled. The stag’s mass groaned.
Briar shifted their weight, “for old time’s sake, I suppose.”
Suddenly the creature’s body began to quake, straining against itself as the friction of wood against wood echoed across the swamp.
Briar instinctively lowered their hand to the hilt of their sword before they realized the massive stag was actually chuckling.
The creature craned its neck downward, leveling his pair of pale green eyes with Briar’s. The eyes glowed and swirled much like the shallow pools of water rippling around his gnarled, trunk-like legs. He huffed a breath of hot, humid air, “for what love there used to be here, between us, I will allow you to leave the way you came. Do not come back.”
Briar’s eyes hardened. “They’ll send someone else. Someone who won’t be as interested in working things out, peacefully.”
“Let them come, I will meet them and let the swamp return them to the flow. I am not interested in your peace in the slightest. I am not about to give ground to those greedy leeches just because they sent you to pretend to ask nicely.”
“Why are you here, now?” The swamp mound of a stag huffed. Its body creaked like the wood of an old tree as it lifted a hoof to stomp the turbid water.
Briar didn’t have an answer—not one he would take well, anyway. They looked up at the massive figure before them: he was overgrown, moss and fungi hanging off roots and vines that curled up around his legs and torso and neck, a massive crown of charcoal antlers breached out of his skull. Doubt gnawed at Briar; was their friend still buried anywhere beneath the weight of the strangling mass of vegetation? They hesitated.
The ripples stilled. The stag’s mass groaned.
Briar shifted their weight, “for old time’s sake, I suppose.”
Suddenly the creature’s body began to quake, straining against itself as the friction of wood against wood echoed across the swamp.
Briar instinctively lowered their hand to the hilt of their sword before they realized the massive stag was actually chuckling.
The creature craned its neck downward, leveling his pair of pale green eyes with Briar’s. The eyes glowed and swirled much like the shallow pools of water rippling around his gnarled, trunk-like legs. He huffed a breath of hot, humid air, “for what love there used to be here, between us, I will allow you to leave the way you came. Do not come back.”
Off the trail I see a tree, furcating low to the ground, reaching upward, in fractals. I walk up to its base and think about how to climb—where to put my feet, which branches to hold, what's the highest I could go. After a moment, though, I turn around, and I move back to the well-trodden path.
And she’s off with her eyes like a buttercup, wild and blooming
It’s a rather beautiful thing, spectacular. More than fifty well-fed horses, shining coats and well-groomed manes. Here comes another chestnut with a bald face, a descendant of Gunner. Time’s running, calls the judge, the rider calls her to hand. She stands still, then, she gallops down the length of the arena’s sleeve and stops in a pristine display, dragging her hooves across the sand, lacing two clear parallel marks down the length of the rectangle delimited with lime.
Lilac is the favorite color this season, but the whole of the adelita dresses on display add a splash of color, from yolk yellow to a bright cerulean to an olive green accented in burnt orange. That palomino is turning like a top, as if its left leg were glued to the ground and this is the only way she could move. That burnt bay is walking backwards as if, actually, this were the way horses were meant to walk.
Too bad the announcer keeps reminding his esteemed audience that the difference between feminism and femininity is that one breaks and the other makes. They insist moralists are ruining the sport, but I? I could’ve done without them.
“Why are you here, now?” The swamp mound of a stag huffed. Its body creaked like the wood of an old tree as it lifted a hoof to stomp the turbid water.
Briar didn’t have an answer—not one he would take well, anyway. They looked up at the massive figure before them: he was overgrown, moss and fungi hanging off roots and vines that curled up around his legs and torso and neck, a massive crown of charcoal antlers breached out of his skull. Doubt gnawed at Briar; was their friend still buried anywhere beneath the weight of the strangling mass of vegetation? They hesitated.
The ripples stilled. The stag’s mass groaned.
Briar shifted their weight, “for old time’s sake, I suppose.”
Suddenly the creature’s body began to quake, straining against itself as the friction of wood against wood echoed across the swamp.
A Guide to Abbreviations and Terminology on Chicken Smoothie
Ah, yes! CS abbreviations. There are so many, lol, especially trading lingo. Let's see...
Pets' Growth Stages
OK, to start off there are a handful of easy abbreviations that refer to pets' growth stages:
PPS / EPPS / and kinda, sorta GUPPS
PPS stands for Peter Pan Syndrome and refers to a pet that will never grow to an adult stage. It's usually an "outcome" in a litter that is a little special like that c: Most (but not all) PPS pets will have that abbreviation on the pet image, and the pet info page will say: "PPS This pet has "PPS". What's that? Here's a PPS pet from February:
EPPS is a term that means "early" or "extreme" PPS and is used to refer to PPS pets that never grew from their newborn/first stage. Here's an EPPS pet from February:
Finally, GUPPS stands for "grown up" PPS. This one's a bit weirder because it refers almost exclusively to pets that are released during the advent calendar, when artists of a PPS pet released earlier in the year choose to create an adult version of it. For example, this puppy was originally released in Oct. 2023, then the artist made a "grown up" version for the Advent Calendar in December. The grown up version is a GUPPS:
Trading
The shorthand "WL" stands for "Wish List." The acronym "FTT" stands for Fair-Trade Thread, which is a very popular and useful thread on the forum where you can post a link to a trade you sent or received, and other users will give their opinion on whether it seems fair or not. Some users refer to duplicate pets of the same outcome as "dupes."
Trading Status There are also some shorthand terms users will write into their pet names or pet group names that give you an idea of their trading status, like:
HTTF - "hard to trade for"
VHTTF - "very hard to trade for"
NFT - "not for trade"
UFT - "up for trade"
UFA - "up for auction," or sometimes, in the free adoptions forum board "up for adoption"
Pets' Rarities There are a handful of very easy-to-learn abbreviations that refer to pets' rarities:
OMGSC - OMG So Common
EC/XC - Extremely Common
VC - Very Common
C - Common
UC - Uncommon
VUC - Very Uncommon
EU/EUC/XUC - Extremely Uncommon
R - Rare
VR- Very Rare
ER - Extremely Rare
OMGSR - OMG So Rare
High Value Trades This is where things start to get complex. I'll explain some abbreviations that are common when trading high value pets, but if you start getting confused about what even is happening at this stage, don't stress about it: we can go over how high value trades work and whatnot in the future, if you like c:
High Value Pets Usually, the user base will agree on names for certain pet litters and outcomes to make trading and talking about pets easier. So if someone says "White February," I know they're talking about this white wolf that was originally released in 2009.There are certain high-value pets that come up so often in discussion that users have shorthanded their names into acronyms. Here are some popular examples I can think of:
BA - Black advent
BMD - Bernese mountain dog
TWA - Timberwolf advent
RBM - Rainbow mane
GWJ - Growing white July
BEG - Black-eyed galaxy
CEG - Clear-eyed galaxy
GSD - German Shepherd Dog
WWA - Winged wood angel
(Tangent: if you know the year and month a pet was released but not their (un)official name, there's a really cool archive run by CS users called Chicken Smoothie Transpets that basically functions like the archive, but it lists the widely agreed-upon names of relevant pets, including the acronyms!).
High Value Worth Shorthands Because trading high-value pets on CS can be a bit complex (since we don't know exactly how much rarer certain pets are compared to others; we only know estimates according to their rarity labels), there have been user researched and made guides to trading OMGSR and ER pets taking into account their demand and estimating how many are found up for trade. The current such guide that seems to be popular right now is Horror's [🐝] Guide to Trading Every Pet on CS. In order to trade certain high-value pets for others at the more or less agreed upon values, most of the userbase use certain labels to describe a pet's worth:
OR - Stands for Old Rares and refers to rare pets from 2010-2011
MA - Is equal in worth to 10 ORs. It stands for "Mid Advent," mostly as a leftover term from an older guide. It's not really important to know exactly why this term is used, and I feel like I am already giving you too much info, so maybe I can tell you the story another time XD. MAs are used to measure the more valuable pets on the site.
Non - Is equal in worth to 10 MAs (or 100 ORs). The term comes from the unofficial names of some of the earliest dogs to be released on CS.
True Date, Un-Released and Re-Released Pets Lore - December 18th is a really exciting day for the whole CS userbase. It is the day. The only day when all users have a chance to adopt pets that were released on previous years and are no longer available though the Adopt page. It is the only day you can adopt a very rare or more valuable pet reliably on the site—I hope you're around for that!
RR - Pets from previous years that are adopted on Dec. 18th are called Re-released pets, or RRs.
TD - In contrast, pets that were adopted in the month and year when they were originally released are called True Date pets, or TDs.
UR - Finally, Un-released pets, or URs are also adopted only on December 18th, but unlike every other pet given out on that day, UR pets have never been released normally before. They are always extremely rare and valuable. You can find the UR pets released each year under the "Special Releases" tab of the archive.
COPPA Sorry for the info-dump. Take a breath, we're back in easy territory c: You may see users mention COPPA users in their tarde rules and such. The acronym stands for "Children's Online Privacy Protection Act." To comply with this act, CS allows kids under 13 years old in the US to make an account and collect pets, but not to participate in the forums or write trade messages.
And, well, that's probably too much information already! But I hope you find it helpful. And if you have any questions about any abbreviation or terminology being used around the site, don't hesitate to ask. I promise to return a shorter answer next time! Let me know what else I can help out with or if you want to dig deeper into any of the subjects I mentioned above. c:
She was on a leash, the lion cub. The kids were pretending to be scared. A boy in a red hoodie sat next to her and pat her head and scratched her ears. I was mesmerized. I was sad. The way she watched the horses run, the way she tasted the air with her open mouth, the way she resisted being pulled along, I think...
“Why are you here, now?” The swamp mound of a stag huffed. Its body creaked like the wood of an old tree as it lifted a hoof to stomp the turbid water.
Briar didn’t have an answer—not one he would take well, anyway. They looked up at the massive figure before them: he was overgrown, moss and fungi hanging off roots and vines that curled up around his legs and torso and neck, a massive crown of charcoal antlers breached out of his skull. Doubt gnawed at Briar; was their friend still buried anywhere beneath the weight of the strangling mass of vegetation? They hesitated.
The ripples stilled. The stag’s mass groaned.
Unndilar 3rd, Byroden
Here we go again. Old habits, new excuses. And it was too easy, to follow the pull like an inevitability — a bowstring drawn. The hand that let the arrow loose (the hand that drew the string and held its tension like a rhetorical question) knows some lives weigh heavier than others.
As much as I long to keep my hands clean, I most fear letting people down who are relying on me to get them dirty.
“Maybe it’s my fault, maybe it’s my power.” I am a sister, and I am a coward. That’s just half bad.