Rhonda Parrish

@rhondaparrish.bsky.social

Writer, editor, game designer & hydra-tamer. Battling insomnia, making blankets, playing D&D & BSing my way through life. Perpetually tired. Loves the word fuck. 2025 EPL Writer in Residence #LetsGoOilers she/her https://www.patreon.com/c/RhondaParrish

I'm trying out Gander (un: RhondaParrish) & it seems to be a good fit for me, but it's early days so we'll see. Anyway, it lets me follow Bsky accounts there but when I reply there it doesn't seem to carry over. So you know what that means right? Yup. I'm just gonna creepily lurk from the shadows.

Check out Cultivate Your Mind Space on BackerKit! www.backerkit.com/c/projects/l... I have a Kickstarter running right now, so I should probably be pimping it. BUT this crowdfunding campaign ends before mine does and it could use a little boost too. Check out these pins!

Cultivate Your Mind Space

Enamel pins celebrating resistance and practical solutions for mental health and joy. We're tired, but we're strong. We're frustrated, but we renew our determination. We care for each other and for ou...

backerkit.com

Some of you have forgotten that only three years ago you were perfectly capable of writing a text, writing an email, telling a bedtime story to a child, and it should worry you that powerful companies have convinced us we can’t do things we’ve been doing since the dawn of time.

Once upon a time I watched someone with a huge social media following sic their followers on a friend of mine because they hadn't bothered to understand the complexities of a situation and just bleated about it anyway.

When I left Twitter because, as a friend of mine frequently says, “I don’t drink at Nazi bars.” I wasn’t sure if I had the spoons to start over at a new platform. Still, I did want to save my name here, just in case.

But I didn’t want to just be a blank account sitting here so I decided to start posting a story, one paragraph(ish) a day, beginning at the end and working my way forward. That way it could be read in the correct order by anyone who stumbled across my page.

Aleria was soft and warm in my arms, and the clouds of our breath intermingled as we kissed, then parted, only to kiss again. Twilight painted the sky the same shade of lilac as her eyes and the snow which bedecked the surrounding trees caught that light and held it. Glowing like faerie fire.

As she pulled from my embrace, her colourful hair streamed out behind her, a rainbow that wrapped around the trunk of a tree as she disappeared behind it. Her challenging laughter rang in the cold air and I ducked as a snowball flew over me–right where my face had

been moments before–and splatted on the trunk of a spruce. I gathered a handful of snow, formed it into a tight snowball and danced around to the far side of the tree Aleria had gone behind. With a victorious battle cry I loosed the snowball, only to have it smash ineffectively into a nearby shrub.

“Where are–?” I began, and then she was there–a flash of colour, a cheeky grin. She winked at me, pelted me with a snowball that exploded into flakes against my shoulder, and then vanished once more.

“You’re only saying that because you haven’t figured yours out yet,” she said, from somewhere above me. I darted out of the way just as the snow she’d shaken off the branches began to cascade down–a beautiful

flaky waterfall. I rolled to a stop and packed another snowball. The next time she appeared beside me I was ready, and my snowball exploded across her spring green jacket. Even as her giggly gasp of surprise clouded the air, I circled around the tree and readied myself for her counter attack.