I'm Strife / Brutus / Sunny / a cavalcade of other names.
20 yr old tgirl, It > She, but switch it up please.
I reblog a lot of nsfw stuff!!! Blacklist "#acid rain" if you don't wanna see that. NO MINORS 18+
[I also try to tag specific kinks when I rb them- so if there's one you specifically don't wanna see you can block that tag too. But you probably already have it blocked so there's that. But all the same.]
PLEASE RECOMMEND ME MUSIC I LOVE IT
OTHER SOCIALS:
Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/buppypuppy.bsky.social
Toyhouse: https://toyhou.se/retrobun
Letterboxd: https://letterboxd.com/Honeybutch/
Last.fm: https://www.last.fm/user/Milfronin
RateYourMusic: https://rateyourmusic.com/~Girlroars
I just realized all my fucking handles are different. well whatever heart emoji
Enjoy your stay.
[Bonus stuff under the cut.]
FACTS ABOUT ME
I love music a lot! I have my whole life. I post about music a lot and have a small [but growing] vinyl collection.
I'm in college, majoring in creative writing
I am not human :+)
I sweat more than most people
I own two katanas they are the (DMC5) Yamato and a unique one who I named Frozen Sundown
I am, in my heart and soul, a 40 year old woman and a milf
I am large
I am very beautiful and cute
You love me
Everyone loves me
STUFF I LIKE
Music
Swords
Sekiro
Bloodborne
Devil May Cry
Ultrakill
Deltarune
Dark Souls
Gundam
Final Fantasy (XIV, sort of VII)
Nine Sols
Hades
Other shit that I'll think of eventually
SOME OF MY FAVORITE ALBUMS
leaving meaning. (Swans)
F♯ A♯ ∞ (Godspeed You! Black Emperor)
Geogaddi (Boards of Canada)
Discipline (King Crimson)
Close to the Edge (Yes)
The Maze to Nowhere (Lorn)
Gemini (Machine Girl)
Remain In Light (Talking Heads) [I know, I know, it's just a classic for a reason, okay?]
flood (Boris)
Diamond Eyes (Deftones)
Smoldering Woodland (Olhava)
Luminescent Creatures (Ichiko Aoba)
The Downward Spiral (Nine Inch Nails) [Again, I know, it's just really good]
like... if you cant even understand my viewpoint. on wilderness fetish. then you wont even get oldwood. you dont need to be Into wilderness fetish. but you need to understand how someone could be into wilderness fetish. you need to comprehend the ontological foundations of wilderness fetish for oldwood to mske sense. okay?
People say it gets cold out on the island, deep in the forest of Oldwood. Unnaturally cold.
People say that on the full moon, they can hear the wailing of the Lady of the Mists. People say that they see her slipping through trees, that nought but dead animals are left in her wake as she travels then ancient woodland.
People say she takes the lives of any person hunting for riches in the remnants of the long dead town. They suffered the plague, until one night, the whole town died. All as one. So they say.
People say to avoid the island, that it’s haunted. A great Necropolis dwells somewhere deep in the forest, though nobody has ever found the entrance. Its high, arched walls go for miles or so it seems.
People said we should leave well enough alone, that too many fools have taken the journey to discover the place, to document its history. My daughter clung to my leg when I said my goodbyes, I told her I'll only be gone for two days, three at the most. She loves history. Stones and bones, that sort of thing. I told her I’ll be back in time for her birthday and I’ll tell her all about the area and what we find. I told her that if she was lucky, I might find some old coins or even some ancient bones. Apparently, there was a small group of money counterfeiters holed up in the forest back when the town had people in it.
A number of families got in touch with our agency, wanting to know what happened to their long lost relatives of Oldwood. Even if we cannot recover their bodies, they’ll still pay just for the closure. I think that’s reasonable enough. I never got to find out what happened to my father, and he never got to find out what happened to his father. My wife called it a family curse, but I don’t have a son, so I’ll be just fine.
Getting onto the island went well enough. The bridge creaked the entire way and some of the beams look like they’ve only got a few seasons left in them but we made it by travelling light.
Evening came quickly, though both myself and Vladislav felt that we were being watched. Petrov put it down to the way the trees loomed over and the way the wind whistled through. Maybe. As the sun set, an icy mist crept in. Very bizarre. All that tree cover did little to keep any heat from the day. At night we found a small clearing. We dug a little ditch and made a small fire, it took a long time for the sticks to ignite. Petrov got angry about it quicker than he usually would over such a thing and he muttered to himself the whole time but refused to repeat himself for us to hear. We ate some rabbit stew with gathered herbs and a handful of vegetables we brought with us. It was not filling, I went to bed hungrier than I felt before we stopped to eat.
A fitful night’s sleep. I dreamt of the lady of the mists. I saw us from above, as though carried around in the wind, our bodies twisted and far from each other. A blood stained forest floor. I woke up certain I could hear a woman’s voice, though I was groggy and couldn't make out the words. Vladislav and Petrov said they didn't hear anything but we all felt very cold, despite it being so humid before we crossed the bridge. The cold seemed to build over the night, we all woke up with our things crisp with a thin layer of ice. None of us could get the fire to light again, the wood was sodden.
We got up as the sun rose through the leaves, worse for wear and irritable. We pushed on. It’s a small island, really. Barely sixty miles across and about fourty up. The Necropolis isn’t quite in the middle, so we were told. A day and a half at most.
None of us really spoke to one another. Petrov grumbled over every pebble, every slippery bit of mud, every twig that seemed to come from nowhere.
Vladislav kept looking behind him, it wasn’t helping my growing paranoia. Every now and then I’d hear that voice again, close by but indiscernible in direction.
Evening came again. It grew much colder, much quicker than before. Vladislav and I split up to find firewood, and enough that we could keep it going all night. Petrov stayed in place, clanking his spoon on the pot so we could hear him. When the clangin stopped, I headed back with all the wood I could carry across the treacherous, freezing, slippery forest.
When I managed to find the camp, Petrov was gone. Only his clothes remained. They say that when you’re cold enough, you strip down and go mad. Vladislav agreed that it was cold, but not that cold. We wondered if he was playing a joke on us but he never returned. We managed to get the fire going and prepared some of our remaining food, leaving enough for a breakfast for two people. Bland but slightly more filling than the previous night.
Vladislav got up, muttering about his bodily functions and didn't return for some time.
The forest was strangely quiet, not when the wind made a sound.
I pulled the fleece closer to my body and dragged a warm stone from the fire pit toward me.
I froze in place.
A set of icy fingers lay on my shoulder, I felt that cold through four layers, right down to my bones. Never had I ever felt so cold.
Finally, I hear the voice with crystal clarity, like looking at the full, blazing moon on a clear winter’s night.
“This is no place for the living. You will not find your quarry.”
I couldn’t speak. I did not need to.
“They do not belong to you now, though you may belong to them.”
My shoulder felt weightless as the cold passed through. I watched as the fleece around me sank closer to my chest, then my body seemed to lean forward from the tree I was leaning against. A strong smell of iron, the taste of blood.
I never hit the forest floor, sat there as I was. Clearly it was a quick thing, though it felt like it went on for days. Worse still, It was so peaceful. It was painless.
hi marnie my dear mutual marnie do youwant to tell me what oldwood is. smiles
[STARTS SHAKING AND FROTHING AT THE MOUTH] hi :+) hi :+) hi :+) Hi Lenna my friend my good mutual hi :+) [Metaphorically cocking my fist back]
Oldwood is my current ongoing worldbuilding project (that I eventually plan on making into a game) in which there is a vast, deep basin in an unfamiliar land, and in that basin, there is a forest of enormous, monumental trees, trunks wider than train cars and taller than skyscrapers, known as the Forest of Drowned Joys. Within the forest are those who live there, the many people-folk and beast-folk who, untold centuries ago, were cast into it by their god in a fit of its rage. They continued to live, despite their god's newfound silence, and decided to survive, to learn to coexist with the forest around them.
Over time, the people who resided within discovered remnants of their god's tantrum that created the grand forest, taking shape in the form of powerful, unfamiliar magics. Magics of metal, color, death, ink, blood, and love. Certain beings found themselves to be particularly adept in the wielding of this magic, utilizing their own will and the help of people who would listen to them and follow them to build their houses, their factions. And those people or beings grew to be figureheads, beacons of guidance in these dark, swallowing woods. The houses of the Iron Grate, the Colored Capitals, the Five Skeletons, the Tragic Poet, the Surgeon, and Punished Love, they were solace amidst the forest. Shelter. Comfort, companionship, any number of things that one would desire or need in a forest that tries to get you to lose yourself.
I can elaborate on many things but here's my not-so-elevator pitch :3 I also have a work in progress playlist on spotify for it
New one... to mark the end of lockdown... #frenchguitarluthiers #electricguitars #customguitars #nancyville #virusmodel #oneofakindguitar #woodworker #luthierlife #handcrafted #framus #lipstick #oldwood (à Roadrunner Guitars) https://www.instagram.com/p/COx9_xNsnmB/?igshid=uathc9h9ylbm
