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When ~Erysne said to me that at ~DawnsBreak only *prosaix would set me free.
It turned my world around, straight into a =Midnight-Dreary
If only I could =MasterInsanity
My *PuzzledHeartBox crinched at the thoughts of what this ~Penhuin's ~SanguineLaw could be.
~LudwigvanKickass2 advised me to play my ~ElectricDidgeridoo, said the ~kitsumekat would appear to me too.
Alas t’was but =Smoppet who appeared before me, said not even ~LegendarySuperman would save me from ~MorbidiaDrekk.
So here we are.. waiting on *prosaix the ~waist-of-time to shake my hourglass upside down.
But I’ve just got time enough to ~WiggleWaddle my ~Ninjaslug, and =KissTheSunrise goodbye. As ~shadee cast me within the abyss of :devwhitediv
Prosaix and The Relic of Ancient Powers
And so upon a midnight dreary, *prosaix set out on a search to reclaim its superiority over the complaints forum. Lately its trolling skills had dropped tremendously, they were but a fraction of what they once used to be. No longer skills of legend, no longer noteworthy, no they’ve become but a figment of their former glory.
Alas my hot body and rosebud belly button are all that is left of me, it said while staring at the horizon shedding a tear of frustration.
New trolls are rising up, tearing down my empire brick by boring brick.
Tears flow freely when *prosaix thinks of what is lost and what used to be.
Yes, even the great *prosaix has emotions, though they are rarely shown, always under trolling powers hidden from a normal eye to see.
Geoffrey and Henrietta
"Geoffrey and Henrietta", by =KittyTaymar78 and *PuzzledHeartBox. Original can be found here: http://comments.deviantart.com/18/1751405/2625270530 Like a brass bra in winter who had gone unwashed for what seemed like a century, Henrietta stared at the moon while thinking of her husband, Geoffrey. How her husband never complained much, not even about her lingering odour of decay. Still, she had been dead for nearly a week, so some odour was to be expected. He suffocated her, and started brewing a new perfume with her remains; He was going to call it Espirit de Corpse. Something so ridiculously special and delicious that even Channel N°5 would smell ordinary. He rubbed his hands together and thought of the riches he would accumulate. After all, he could just farm the production out to some third-world country and then watch the profits mount up. He was so excited that he nearly orgasmed. He shouted for joy as he pulled his dead wife