#it's grey

[imnotafraidtodisappear]

what is this weather if i have to suffer heat and humidity it could at least be sunny 😔

[swan2swan]

hello grey

[kuipermoth]

try out. idk. a nice wallpaper or something. use yaoi for wallpaper or something that's what happens when liraz/yuri fronts. he just changes front room's wallpaper into yaoi images

wehhh I'm too lazy. plus its nice and pretty. I'm the bright white light guy what did you think I'd say

[abluehappyface]

I'm not colorblind

I'm not colorblind

I'm not colorblind

I'm not colorblind

I'm not colorblind

I'M NOT COLORBLIND!!!

[anneapocalypse]

CONTROVERSIAL OPINION TIME

Sophia Dryden's Grey Warden armor slaps way harder than whatever that blue stripey business is.

[catsandcatci]

Midwest Gothic

You see names carved into a tree. You did not see the names yesterday, but the scars are old. You think to ask what happened to them, but you don’t. No one ever does. 

The tornado sirens are supposed to drill once a week, on Wednesdays. Or was it Sundays? No one knows. it doesn’t matter, because you can hear them anyway. They never stop, but you prefer that to the silence. 

Your cat went missing once, on a stormy night. When lightning flashed a month later, she returned. You can’t quite remember if your cat’s eyes were always that bright, her teeth always that sharp. She still likes tummy rubs. 

Snow falls in late spring. You taste ash on your tongue. 

The train moves slowly, like a diseased beast. You never see the beginning, and you never see the end. That is fine, you say. It is fine. Do not cross the tracks. Do not look too closely at the gravel. The stone faces you find will not pity you. 

You stood at the edge of a cornfield, once. Gossamer spiderwebs gleam in the sunlight, like broken glass. You’ve never seen any spiders in the corn. You are warned to never touch the webs.

You ask who lived in the abandoned house down the street. Everyone laughs. Why do they laugh?

Your grandparents tell you they once saw cultists in a nearby meadow. But it’s far too pretty, and the wildflowers nicely cover the sigils within the earth. Ignore the chanting at night. If you do, whatever they call might ignore you too. 

Walnut stains your hands. It hides the blood.

You drive along a foggy road. If you look closely, you can see writhing shapes ahead. They are alway ahead. 

It’s always cold in the winter. If cold is the absence of heat, then what is taking it? The old stories say something slumbers in the summer, and wakes in winter. You stay inside when it snows, huddled against the fireplace. It’s always cold in the winter. 

Your friend swears that when they went swimming in the lake they touched something, swimming beneath them. What lake? You don’t hear what they say next. Did they always smile like that, with those teeth?

There’s an old oil pump in the woods. Do not approach it. Don’t look at the black stains. The smell of oil in the air masks their scent. 

The leaves blanket the ground in autumn. The leaves blanket the ground in winter. The leaves blanket the ground in spring. They do not decay, they are alive, too, after all. Look forward when you walk, lest you see them wink. 

You drive an old road, bordered by old houses, old fields, old trees. You’ve never seen anyone on the old road, not even ghosts. Keep driving. 

There is a church. Its walls are perfect white. The elderly women glare at you. That's fine, they scare you less than the pastor. The pastor smiles too much.

You see a dark giant at the edge of the forest, just inside the tree line. You’re glad, because that means the smaller shadows are elsewhere.

The coyotes howl at night. Do not ponder what howls with them. 

[littlewritingrabbit]

I have had the privellage of learning today that there are few questions that will throw a groupchat into chaos the way “what colour is Wednesday?” will