Nation,

These are some dark times for the Dressing Room. I mean, have you seen the bathroom lately? Red everywhere.

And you know what that means.

Communists.

Brace yourselves, folks; it's all downhill from here. It won't be long before the toriningen are dragging us off to the gulags just for maybe stabbing them a little. Knives are completely ( Read more... )

[Defective Trueman, who is actually not all that defective really idk, is working out in the gym. He's doing some awesome push ups here. I mean, god. Those muscles. What is keeping them in that suit of his? With a flick of his long bangs, beads of sweat fly through the air. He might be trying to reaffirm his masculinity considering he was a school- ( Read more... )

[A painfully bad falsetto can be heard from anywhere in the DR, as it comes from this man.]

IIYAAAA~~! TRUE-CHAN VERY SURPRIIISE~~!!!

[And yet, he's posing so very masculine-like. Come witness his moe-ness.]

[Just outside the building's main entrance, one can find an elusive Trueman crouched before a quaint little bed of daisies. He seems to be occupying himself with slowly disemboweling one of them, petal by petal.]

To commit towards forming meaningful relationships with others, to not commit towards forming meaningful relationships with others. To ( Read more... )

[There is a Trueman standing in the lobby. He might be staring at you. He might be staring at the wall. All you can tell is that he has blond hair for some reason and isn't saying a word. His name-tag reads "Hello, my name is 426." Approach?]

( Read more... )

[Trueman has followed Florence to a convention in New Jersey. BRB]

>italian

[Not crying for once, Trueman is coming to terms with his - and everyone else's - indecent exposure through gritted teeth and a face so red that one would think he was having a high blood-pressure induced brain hemorrhage, along with fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles are accented with the off-white coloration of flesh that is desperate ( Read more... )

[Trueman, in a proud display of his extraordinarily archaic meta prowess, is lazing away his time on a lobby bench, peeling the rough and generally inedible skin off his new favorite foodstuff - an orange - and wondering if there ever was such a thing as 'consistency.'

So, if you are within fifty feet of him, prepare to catch the annoyingly potent ( Read more... )