Thread for the Invisibles

[Safe_Bet]

Bleubs. I'm on a drive to get everyone to call her Bleubs.

But I've never seem her Bleubs! Are they nice?

 

[Lady_Guenivere]

IO sorriso , solo Sono fare male. Testamento IO trovare rilascio?

 

[damppanties]

But I've never seem her Bleubs! Are they nice?

maybe you need to get on a drive to see them. Just saying.

 

[bluebell]

maybe you need to get on a drive to see them. Just saying.

You didn't even see them!
(Whatever "them" are. And I'm scared to ask, too.)

 

[damppanties]

You didn't even see them!
(Whatever "them" are. And I'm scared to ask, too.)

If you don't know what they are, how do you know I haven't seen them?

 

[bluebell]

If you don't know what they are, how do you know I haven't seen them?

Because I wore all black and you said you couldn't see anything. Even me.

 

[maggot420]

Because I wore all black and you said you couldn't see anything. Even me.

Hiya Bleubsie

 

[bluebell]

Hiya Bleubsie

Maggles!

 

[trysail]

Is Bleubs in possession of the Tarnhelm? ...or is't in the hands of Tarakin?

( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tarnhelm )

Errr... maybe it's not the Tarnhelm, just a simple cloak of invisibility (which would, of course, explain multiple invisibles).

( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cloak_of_invisibility )

 

[Safe_Bet]

Is Bleubs in possession of the Tarnhelm? ...or is't in the hands of Tarakin?

( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tarnhelm )

Errr... maybe it's not the Tarnhelm, just a simple cloak of invisibility (which would, of course, explain multiple invisibles).

( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cloak_of_invisibility )

Or are Tarakin's hands on her Bleubs?

 

[damppanties]

Because I wore all black and you said you couldn't see anything. Even me.

We might have been talking about your toesies. Which I saw.

 

[bluebell]

Is Bleubs in possession of the Tarnhelm? ...or is't in the hands of Tarakin?

( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tarnhelm )

Errr... maybe it's not the Tarnhelm, just a simple cloak of invisibility (which would, of course, explain multiple invisibles).

( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cloak_of_invisibility )

Yes. I want one. Or maybe I do have one already...

Or are Tarakin's hands on her Bleubs?

We might have been talking about your toesies. Which I saw.

Chortling. Saturday morning chortling.
And you said they were freakishly small or some such nonsense.
In any case I think we can all agree that this subject is weird and a full stop ought to be issued.

 

[damppanties]

Chortling. Saturday morning chortling.
And you said they were freakishly small or some such nonsense.
In any case I think we can all agree that this subject is weird and a full stop ought to be issued.

Except for everyone calling you Bleubs.

 

[Safe_Bet]

maybe you need to get on a drive to see them. Just saying.

You didn't even see them!
(Whatever "them" are. And I'm scared to ask, too.)

Because I wore all black and you said you couldn't see anything. Even me.

We might have been talking about your toesies. Which I saw.

Except for everyone calling you Bleubs.

Okay you two! That's enough! Both of you take your clothes off and get over here. I'm going to hold a panties/bluebs/toesies inspection and get this settled once and for all.

(See Damppanties, I'm starting to get on a drive! )

 

[damppanties]

Okay you two! That's enough! Both of you take your clothes off and get over here. I'm going to hold a panties/bluebs/toesies inspection and get this settled once and for all.

(See Damppanties, I'm starting to get on a drive! )

The drive is supposed to be directed towards Bleubs, not me!

 

[damppanties]

Right thread

Particularly unloved.

 

[tickledkitty]

I can feel it swirling around me. Pulling me. Shrouding me in darkness. Whispering to me. Sliding down the back of my neck. It's going to take me, and I don't know how to stop it. I can feel it seeping into my soul.

Does anybody know how to stop it?

 

[damppanties]

Tu hi to jannat meri, tu hi mera junoon
Tu hi to mannat meri, tu hi rooh ka sukoon
Tu hi akhiyon ki thankdak, tu hi dil ki hai dastak
Aur kuchh na janoon main bas itna hi janoon
Tujh mein rab dikhta hai yaara main kya karoon
Tujh mein rab dikhta hai yaara main kya karoon
Sajde sar jhukta hai yaara main kya karoon
Tujh mein rab dikhta hai yaara main kya karoon

-------------------
Everything, everything, everything.
Every time.
-------------------
Seep. Liquid. Water. Wade. Drown. Trickle...seep.

 

[Guest]

Where did the inner me disappear to?.....

 

[bluebell]

The chorus. Is good. But needs changing.
I want you
But I'm a poltergeist.


I also miss the Horse. Soul missing.

 

[impressive]

Good morning, Ms. Bluey. I see you & I wish you the happiest of holidays. With or without horse.

 

[Nirvanadragones]

. . . and sometimes I think I travel, just so that I could come home, and hope to feel it, and know it for real.

 

[bluebell]

I don't even know what to do about me anymore. It always seems to come to this point. My fault. It's like when I'm walking on those paths in the fields by my grandfather's house in Northampton. There's a gate ahead. I never believe I'm really going to manage it; it's complicated. I saw it coming, I knew I would have to get around it somehow. It's tall, I am not. I spent part of the approach contemplating the logic of how to navigate myself around it and the other part enjoying the walk yet, not entirely conscious of the fact that decisions would have to be made.

There are times when you question every little thing about yourself. About your life. Why you do or do not, can or cannot achieve the scaling of that gate. I made it far this time. Farther than I've ever made it before. But the earth is still falling away from around me while I try to maneuver the wood, my feet, my arms, my body.

It's hard enough to do the gate, but when you start to wonder who's out there watching your feeble attempts you get even more flummoxed and incapacitated. You hear small comments, they reflect to you. You are too dark a person. You go there too often, too much. Too serious. Am I? Maybe. Then again it's unfair to judge someone, even yourself, based on one version. Which is the true one? The fused one. The you that exists in Russian stacking dolls.

I just don't think I can ever manage it, that gate. Somewhere I believe I can. But when it comes down to demonstrating it, I am the Epic Fail. Me, who hails truth. Lives by it, adores it even despite its ability to burn. I don't know how to be true about myself without the conviction that what I am must be too terrible to ask anyone to live with.
Can I ever fix it? Will the right situation ever materialize for me to do it? Or am I leaving out a consideration: that I may never be able to do it without help?

Dear Vyrus,

You've never told me I am too dark. For this and many other reasons you are completely beautiful.

 

[Safe_Bet]

I don't even know what to do about me anymore. It always seems to come to this point. My fault. It's like when I'm walking on those paths in the fields by my grandfather's house in Northampton. There's a gate ahead. I never believe I'm really going to manage it; it's complicated. I saw it coming, I knew I would have to get around it somehow. It's tall, I am not. I spent part of the approach contemplating the logic of how to navigate myself around it and the other part enjoying the walk yet, not entirely conscious of the fact that decisions would have to be made.

There are times when you question every little thing about yourself. About your life. Why you do or do not, can or cannot achieve the scaling of that gate. I made it far this time. Farther than I've ever made it before. But the earth is still falling away from around me while I try to maneuver the wood, my feet, my arms, my body.

It's hard enough to do the gate, but when you start to wonder who's out there watching your feeble attempts you get even more flummoxed and incapacitated. You hear small comments, they reflect to you. You are too dark a person. You go there too often, too much. Too serious. Am I? Maybe. Then again it's unfair to judge someone, even yourself, based on one version. Which is the true one? The fused one. The you that exists in Russian stacking dolls.

I just don't think I can ever manage it, that gate. Somewhere I believe I can. But when it comes down to demonstrating it, I am the Epic Fail. Me, who hails truth. Lives by it, adores it even despite its ability to burn. I don't know how to be true about myself without the conviction that what I am must be too terrible to ask anyone to live with.
Can I ever fix it? Will the right situation ever materialize for me to do it? Or am I leaving out a consideration: that I may never be able to do it without help?

Dear Vyrus,

You've never told me I am too dark. For this and many other reasons you are completely beautiful.

THAT was pretty deep AND pretty beautiful. Uber hugs, chickie. *Muah* Thanks for saying that for me too.



P.S. Who the hell is Vyrus and why don't I have neked pictures?

 

[tickledkitty]

I love you, Bluey darling.