Nov 1, 2024
Loading...
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Switzerland
seen from Switzerland
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Russia
seen from Germany
seen from Angola
seen from Malaysia
seen from South Korea
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
when we come running, we never go where we BELONG
Had our third meeting with my writing group tonight. It’s definitely helping to keep me accountable, and I’m making decent progress on my second draft. I got lots of good notes today, and I’m excited to do some edits!
One of my favorite notes: “Ari doesn’t seem to be the most well adjusted person.” Lmao… yep, she’s definitely driven by her emotions. My little hotheaded, messy babe.
      An hour into the latest novel on her lap, Ari’s stomach growled. It was still early, but the mess hall would be open, and she was famished despite the morning’s events. It was about time to get the taste of copper from her tongue—with book in tow, Ari made her way out of the Library and down the stone path to the mess. The sun was up along the eastern horizon, and the sky had a slight pink hue beyond. The air was crisp, bird song filling the morning with sound, accompanied by the rustling leaves from the forest adjacent to the base.
      Ari listened closely to their chirping, closed her eyes, picked out a few different birds by their unique song—Titmouse, Sorella-Swallow, Bluejay, Silver-Sparrow— and heard the scraping of dried leaves on the pathway before her. The breeze and natural sounds opened her to a higher form of thought and feeling, and she picked up the faint rumblings of the trees. She could not hear exactly what they were saying, as if just out of earshot, no matter how close she got to the source. Perhaps one day she’d be able to hear them. Light danced against her eyelids. She let out a deep, sighing breath, trying to let everything from the past day melt from her thoughts.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
ASEDIO-TIRO-ARTE-PINTURA-ARIETES-TORRES ASALTO-EJERCITO-REY-ALEJANDRO MAGNO-DETALLES-CUADROS-TECNICAS MIXTAS-HISTORIA-PLASTICA-ARTISTA-PINTOR-ERNEST DESCALS por Ernest Descals Por Flickr: ASEDIO-TIRO-ARTE-PINTURA-ARIETES-TORRES ASALTO-EJERCITO-REY-ALEJANDRO MAGNO-DETALLES-CUADROS-TECNICAS MIXTAS-HISTORIA-PLASTICA-ARTISTA-PINTOR-ERNEST DESCALS- Torres de asalto con sus arietes en el asedio de TIRO, el ejército del Rey de Macedonia ALEJANDRO MAGNO ha organizado el sitio a la ciudad fiel al Imperio Persa, detalle de las pinturas con la vida y la historia del conquistador macedonio, los hechos históricos de las conquistas a través del arte de la plástica, pintura del artista pintor Ernest Descals con técnicas mixtas sobre papel en sus fragmentos.
Ari knew she was dreaming. She could feel the sun warming her skin, the breeze carrying the scent of lavender. She was in a field, where a young girl, who looked as though she were about fourteen, danced. The girl could not see Ari, but Ari watched her curiously. This was a new dream, she knew for sure, as it was unlike any she’d had before. The girl danced, and Ari noted that she wasn’t particularly good, but she looked content. Then the girl began to sing, and her voice wasn’t particularly strong either, but she seemed happy. Ari could feel herself smiling. It was a pleasant dream, she thought.     After a while, other girls began to appear in the field. They all looked to be about the same age as the first girl, and they were all lovely. One began to sing, and her voice was wonderful. The first girl stopped singing, looking quite sad. Another began to dance, and her body moved fluidly through the field, her dance a story of the world. The first girl stopped dancing, her head bowing low. The other girls carried on, one painting a perfect replica of the landscape, one writing in a small journal, one lie in the tall grass and stared at the sky, two seemed to be putting on a sort of play, one strummed softly on a lyre, and the last recited a poem to no one in particular. The first girl fell to her knees and sobbed. The other nine girls paid her no mind and went about their business.     Ari frowned. Her heart broke for the girl. She attempted to walk toward her, but found that she could not move. Her body was paralyzed. She wanted to yell out, to tell the girl that it was alright, but when she tried to step forward again, she felt herself being pulled back.
Tomodatchi Life is an odd game, and I love it