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More from mushroomsoup65
turn off the flash you fuckin moron
i promise i have more to offer than xarop smoking joints in unsettling places i just dont have it right now
Category Artwork (Digital) / General Furry Art
Species Deer
Size 1213 x 1172px
File Size 1.52 MB
It's the best feeling, if one can stand the weather and the biting insect welcoming committee.
First, it hits you how serene and quiet it is. But then, the time dilates, and you hear how noisy the woods are.
The original, all-organic cities full of thousands of species, all awake at different times.
You hear the distant creaking of the trees rubbing their trunks together, rustling their canopies.
A good, long drag, a few long forest-time minutes later, and you raise your muzzle up.
The stars above are blinking their inscrutable Morse messages, clustering up in murmurations.
Like little icicles in the wind, they seem to be tintinnabulating, singing their astral hymns.
A thick, rain-pregnant cloud rolls away, revealing the too bright Moon looking down on you.
The gentle moonshine sets every follicle on your face alert, nettling you with a web of itching prickles.
You take another drag, bite down on your phalange to let the pain sharpen your mind, and you ask Her:
"Where am I going?"
The Moon seems to think for a while, then gives you a kind, slightly coy smile.
"There is no going anywhere, except round and round."
"Huh... Sorry, but that's not very helpful."
"Wasn't meant to be. Looking from where I am, you are where you are. And you always will be."
First, it hits you how serene and quiet it is. But then, the time dilates, and you hear how noisy the woods are.
The original, all-organic cities full of thousands of species, all awake at different times.
You hear the distant creaking of the trees rubbing their trunks together, rustling their canopies.
A good, long drag, a few long forest-time minutes later, and you raise your muzzle up.
The stars above are blinking their inscrutable Morse messages, clustering up in murmurations.
Like little icicles in the wind, they seem to be tintinnabulating, singing their astral hymns.
A thick, rain-pregnant cloud rolls away, revealing the too bright Moon looking down on you.
The gentle moonshine sets every follicle on your face alert, nettling you with a web of itching prickles.
You take another drag, bite down on your phalange to let the pain sharpen your mind, and you ask Her:
"Where am I going?"
The Moon seems to think for a while, then gives you a kind, slightly coy smile.
"There is no going anywhere, except round and round."
"Huh... Sorry, but that's not very helpful."
"Wasn't meant to be. Looking from where I am, you are where you are. And you always will be."
Thank you! It was an almost offensively purple bit of text, so I can't accept the praise for being earnest.
But I do genuinely love the evening forest ambience, and I love watching trailcams for animals acting like spy movie heroes and cryptids.
It's your wonderful creations that brighten up rooms and make the world go round!
And it's the lack of an appropriately massive following that emboldens weirdos to assail you with bad literature.
But I do genuinely love the evening forest ambience, and I love watching trailcams for animals acting like spy movie heroes and cryptids.
It's your wonderful creations that brighten up rooms and make the world go round!
And it's the lack of an appropriately massive following that emboldens weirdos to assail you with bad literature.
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