But I Forgot - Blog Posts
Are you trying to have it so only your subordinates, enemies, and your boss see your posts? If so, there's options for that. You don't need to put your soapbox in the town square so people can set up tomato stands if you don't want to. :)
do you like this picture
No.
Damn, Asagiri must really hate father figures
Whoa, I live! :)) Anyway, I'm still super busy and art blocked but have a sketch of Kurt and my mutual's OC! These two are SO cute guys.
Kurt is dancing with @hulkingharbor's oc, Cloudstrike!
When I was in the 5th grade, I made up an idea for a comic strip called Woodland Weirdos. It starred Bell Bunny, Ricky Rabbit, and Bucky Beaver, who were anthro-ish woodland creatures. In 8th grade, I joined Aishax Neckox's bunny brigade (I haven't followed her for years, so I'm not doing a proper mention) by turning Bell 'gothic'. It's really funny looking back on it. (Also, I didn't draw Bucky at all??) Recently, I have decided to redraw the first characters that I've made (and actually did something with) again, and to do it properly this time.
Meet Sigris, one of my oc's. She's pretty old one, but i forgot about her, so her lore and design can change, but for now she is a huge hornet who guards one of the magical and powerfull (not really) gems, that once belonged to ancient goddess (also not really).
I will talk about those not reallies in some other post, because it would take too long now 🥲
Glory To The Faithful (The World Screams In Its Anguish)
His hands twitched, his skin rubbed red and raw, his breaths escaping his chest with a rasping wheeze. Apologies carved into his chest as he claws at his arms, the stain of gold stark on his skin. He had not left the cell in days, scrubbing at the stone bricks in vain. Glowing faintly in the dark, he sobs tearless cries at the cruel reminder of his mistakes, as the waters bleed crimson. His blood over his God's, though now he began to doubt his claim of fervent devotion, he has no right, but he is far too greedy to offer its sacrifice just yet. Cradling his vision close, bloody streaks tracing the engraved constellation he knew was his, proof of his status even if he were to fall from grace. Memories with jagged edges that tear and spill open the truths he wished not to see. Iron to his eyes and thread through his lips, he can not hear and no longer can he feel, penance for his sins. A warden of a prison that holds only one. He burns alone, deep beneath the dark waters.