11-18-2014, 04:50 PM
Oooo I want one, I think I have been here for.... 2 years?
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"Years of Service" Awards
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11-19-2014, 07:29 AM
4 years! 5 in 3 months.
:'D Sidenote: coming back soon! (Hopefully within a month, if things pan out well in St. Louis.)
11-19-2014, 12:25 PM
Alright, I'm caught up on them thus far.
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11-19-2014, 01:07 PM
I can haz upgrade to two years?
I will not be forgotten. This is my time to shine. I've got the scars to prove it. Only the strong survive. I'm not afraid of dying. Everyone has their time. Life never favored weakness.
Welcome to the pride!
11-21-2014, 12:23 PM
Ayyyy, yesterday made one year here. It's been a good one.
04-14-2016, 06:27 AM
_| ̄|○
OTL Move him into the sun— Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields half-sown. Always it woke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. If anything might rouse him now The kind old sun will know. Think how it wakes the seeds,— Woke, once, the clays of a cold star. Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides, Full-nerved—still warm—too hard to stir? Was it for this the clay grew tall? —O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth’s sleep at all?
04-19-2016, 08:20 AM
sam u lil shit
Your stories will always remain...
... as will your valiant hearts.
04-21-2016, 07:09 AM
Move him into the sun— Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields half-sown. Always it woke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. If anything might rouse him now The kind old sun will know. Think how it wakes the seeds,— Woke, once, the clays of a cold star. Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides, Full-nerved—still warm—too hard to stir? Was it for this the clay grew tall? —O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth’s sleep at all?
05-26-2018, 09:58 PM
Move him into the sun— Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields half-sown. Always it woke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. If anything might rouse him now The kind old sun will know. Think how it wakes the seeds,— Woke, once, the clays of a cold star. Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides, Full-nerved—still warm—too hard to stir? Was it for this the clay grew tall? —O what made fatuous sunbeams toil To break earth’s sleep at all? |
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