seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Japan
seen from United States
POEM IDEA: write a poem about an owl missing its mouse
tortoiseshell
feathers thread the needle
of crown-shy forest skies. in the absence
of the smallest silence, spread
(offered nothing for her cry:
not a rustle,
quiver,
twitch—to her, louder than the felled tree
void of ear to faze) wings glide over talons—red blood cells
without oxygen to carry—open with the itch
to close. if the thrill of the chase
goes both ways, what follows
when one escapes?
still, i lay.
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
I need to rewrite some parts of Summoning Circle at some point. Looking back at it, it needs some alterations.
I'm also removing the cat, I shoved that in there last second and kept forgetting about it. Better to remove that then keep forgetting about an animal during dangerous situations.
It's been a long fucking time since I updated that.
Hello, World!
Nice to meet all of you! I am Blake, I am 20 (and already feel like an old lady), I prefer female pronouns and I got like 2 brain cells. One is off on the swing set on the nearest playground and the other one is writing this. Anyways, I felt like opening this blog to share my passion about several fandoms with others (and maybe quench the thirst of some of you, I know who you are!) I probably will answer most requests for: - Match-ups - Imagines - Headcanons - small fanfiction requests For further info check out my Rules and my fandom list. Read ya’ll soon❤️
“i love wings by bts. awake c:”
I only know you in the “fore”s and “after”s. When I trace a symmetry line down your chest and wonder what it would be like to open it up and crawl inside. You’re the only one who understands my mind. Even I don’t. But you taste my thoughts before they form, and you speak in a language only you and I know. I’m lost in your magic. I wish I could have, i mean, get you. I’m a book that only opens to your hands. You’re gentle as if I’m something precious or sacred. You leaf through the pages, feeling the ink under your fingertips. As you do, I see the lights in your eyes. Be it from a forest fire or the screen of a phone you really should have replaced by now, I see the lights. And you know me. More intimately than anything I could name. You know me. But all I have of you are the “fore”s and “after”s. The drunken nights and the hate sex and the crumbs to feed a dozen mouths. Every face of mine craves your palm on its cheek. I’d say I’m going to cry myself to sleep tonight, but you already know I can’t. I’ll go write another song about it. You’ll be there when I wake up, and I’ll pretend not a word of this ever passed my mouth or hand the same way you pretend not an inch of me has ever passed yours. My insides are a patchwork of the kid my parents didn’t raise and the hurricane you taught me I was. You are the eye, and I am the storm. And I’ll never need a damn thing else the way I need you.
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
You pulled me into three parts and wrestled with each one. The sun beat on your back as you pinned one ribbon-tied wrist to the other. I wouldn’t fight this hard to save my life, but i’d fight to save the girl my mom thinks i am. Her perfect image that i’ve long outgrown… with the right jacket and belt, i can style it forever, right? It’s been so easy since the last break. But it’s not a good thing to fit in clothes from when i was fifteen. So you made me yield and admit who i wasn’t. All in metaphor, of course.
I don’t think i ever want to smoke again, not unless you’re passing one to me while we sit on mushroom caps. You never fought me with fists—only brushing hands and blown pupils. I’m terrified of falling. You hold me as if it’ll help. And when the world falls apart, my ghost will lie between your legs on the kitchen’s tile floor. You never bruised me, but, oh, did you make me bleed… i keep having nightmares where you get a buzzcut. Please never do.
I’ve been writing more than usual. Nothing i can share, though. That’s how you know it’s good. Swinging my feet off the side of the balcony, pretending i’m the girl you’re singing about. I hold my headphones a little tighter against my ears and wish school never starts up again. I’m still young enough to know hope the same way i know fear. Nowadays it’s just “faith” and “caution.” I know it gets better. I don’t have the guts to look forward to it. Keeping my feet on the ground because i like this pair of shoes—why would i risk losing them? I don’t like what this song is about. It’s me or nothing. And “you” have changed fifty-eight times between then and now. Each candy heart in this pack makes me think of a different girl. There’s a number of nasty words for a person like me. None of them are wrong. So i’ve been writing more about nothing at all.
The you inside of me isn’t dead. It lives until some poor soul dares to slay the beast that i am. Else, i’m just a bastardization of what you were. I’m the zombie that lurches about, damned to live as an undead mockery of something that once was beautiful. Banging. Scratching. Trailing whats left of you across the glass. How many failed attempts until it feels like heaven doesn’t want you? Me, i mean. Been losing track of the difference. I keep the mirrors fogged and broken so i don’t have to see you in them. Who knew hair ribbons could wreck me like this? The you inside of me is untethered. It’s clawing at the walls of my brain until it hurts too much to leave the light on. I want to scream. I want to peel you. I want to take off your skin and eat you in eighths. I know how you would taste. Why can’t you come and metaphorically bash my head in? I deserve it, don’t i? I’ve earned it, right? If i never came back, i’d be better than you. As if i’m not already. I mean, as if you’re not already better than me. Isn’t it the same thing?
