#anonymoushandle

[xftime]

(You are the fortunate soul that bears witness to this miraculous event. Just as that office chair goes rocketing towards the stairs, a most amazing feat happens. This man actually stands up on the chair and directs it to the railing, successfully riding it down like a skateboard until he reaches the bottom where he does a complete 360 and lands standing on the back of the chair as it goes sliding across the floor and comes to a stop. He takes two steps off and falls over in a fit of laughter.)

He’s seriously speechless. Well, not really, in his mind he’s cursing against himself not having a damn phone in his pockets or a camera to film it, because that shit is so gold he could send it around and see it becoming viral. The birth of actual meme drunk Jotaro, what a glorious tearjerking clusterfuck.

[xftime]

m!a: crow nekomimi for 24 hours!

       « Well, fuck. »

[xftime]

Surprisingly, your reassurances start to work for the rosebush--and when your blood touches the petals of the bush from the injury it certainly caused, it goes still. There is a certain tranquility--then you feel it, much like the first time you endured it, there is a healing touch to your chest and face as flesh knits back together. Perhaps, that blood of yours calms it as it soaks into its body, and the vibration through time that has been so painful sinks to the calmest it has been. [1/2]

—

[xftime]

That sound starts to play again--and perhaps, it is more monstrous and distorted than before in that it, with your words, is self-aware. It jerks and stops, playing again then trying to quiet itself. For the first time, petals start to actually fall as a sense of panic starts to wash over the being there. [1/2]

—

[xftime]

The bush moves, rustling somewhat. It could simply just be the wind, but there is something else to it. You reassure the presence there that your intent is to help--and that you can help beyond mere companionship. Then you actually feel it in the air, like a heavy reverberation of a chord struck, a deep note that flows with distortion. The voice that speaks into your mind is familiar and yet not. [1/2]

—

[xftime]

M!A: Albino Budgerigar Harpy for 12 hours.

      LOOK AT HIM. LOOK AT HIM PUFFING HIS NECK AND LETTING OUT A DISTRESSED CAW. IT’S DAVESPRITE. IT’S DAVESPRITE ALL OVER AGAIN.