![snowbeast](/images/avatar-guest.jpg)
Cat gang 8 comments
snowbeast
· 3 years ago
I think they all look they would appreciate a cheek rub and a "who's a good boy/girl then"
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Edited 3 years ago
I wonder why… 5 comments
snowbeast
· 3 years ago
This still happens at my job, if someone accidentally sends a text to your office number. Cracks me up every time, so I sometimes do it just to mess with people.
If only this moment could last forever, Dad. I cherish every day we have together. 3 comments
snowbeast
· 3 years ago
I'm so sorry. Live in the present and try to enjoy it as much as possible. Tell your dad you love him.
6
This morning - Good harvest 7 comments
Taking bad days out on everyone else 10 comments
Imagine drinking warm water 6 comments
snowbeast
· 3 years ago
I prefer cold bean juice this time of year. But not cold as in forgotten and got cold, but more made cold on purpose. I like purposely cold bean juice.
1
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Edited 3 years ago
Better Than Cake or Death 12 comments
snowbeast
· 3 years ago
Buy a retreat along the Appalachian Trail and renovate it into a hikers' hostel. Pay off my brother's mortgage. Travel all over for a year or 2. Get my sea legs. Get my archaeology degree and offer my services as a volunteer for the first few years.
3
This post has read directly in my brain 60 comments
snowbeast
· 3 years ago
May I please play? I will have a forest green cloak and this is my weapon:
http://bronzeagefoundry.com/shop/palstave-axe/
1
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Edited 3 years ago
http://bronzeagefoundry.com/shop/palstave-axe/
Seduction is a subtle art 8 comments
No WiFi? No prob 8 comments
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine” 3 comments
Where are my Goths at? 1 comments
snowbeast
· 3 years ago
A cold blade presses against your neck. "Visi or Ostro?" hisses in your ear.
You stutter,
"Theodoric the bold,
chief of sea-warriors,
ruled over the shores of the Hreiðsea.
Now he sits armed
on his Gothic horse,
his shield strapped,
the prince of the Mærings."
The blade is removed, and you are clasped in a warm embrace. "How is the weather in Rök, my friend?"
2
You stutter,
"Theodoric the bold,
chief of sea-warriors,
ruled over the shores of the Hreiðsea.
Now he sits armed
on his Gothic horse,
his shield strapped,
the prince of the Mærings."
The blade is removed, and you are clasped in a warm embrace. "How is the weather in Rök, my friend?"