Apr 29, 2019
"So who exactly ARE you, big guy?" -Meister
“The chief of security here at Arkham and you’ll do well to remember that you talent show reject.”
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"So who exactly ARE you, big guy?" -Meister
“The chief of security here at Arkham and you’ll do well to remember that you talent show reject.”
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.
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@carpenoctuum replied to your post:
“There’s no such thing as being proud of a child back home. They either succeed or they don’t… and I didn’t. Going back would mean they won, but sometimes I’d rather live a loser there than someone here.”
“That’s sad, man. I mean, I know you probably didn’t know different, but as an observer on the outside, I find that sad, ehehe...” he said, frowning, “I know how that feels, kinda... a lotta humans feel like they don’t belong in this world either.”
Sympathy knotted his face as he spoke.
“You really miss them, huh?” he said, “I’m sorry... we’ll work something out. I’m sure we can. If there’s anything us humans have always been good at, it’s working out something.”
❤ -Give me that sweet Scriddler
ULTIMATE SHIP MEME - Send my character a ❤ and I’ll fill in the form of what my character would do with yours.
BOLD YOUR CHOICES
Affectionate; Holding hands | Cheek kisses | Hugs from behind | Cuddling | Hand kiss | PDA | Spooning | Shared baths | Whispers | Affectionate texts | Caressing | Stroke hair | No displays of affection
Sex; Shower sex | Wall sex | Neck bites | Oral | Morning sex | Drunk sex | Public sex | Backseat of car | BDSM | No sex
Dates;Picnic | Cinema | Restaurant | Sports game | Hike | Coffee | Museum | Club | Bar | Beach | No dates
Would my character…
Marry them? Yes | No | EW MARRIAGE Have sex on the first date? Yes | NoConfess their attraction first? Yes | No Have children/adopt? Yes | No Die for your character? Yes | No Cheat on your character? Yes | No Lie to them? Yes | No Cuddle after sex? Yes | No
en un entonces no muy alejado del presente, los payasos contaban con la ayuda del señor sonrisas; quizá era el señor sonrisas número cuatro ya, pero a diferencia de los anteriores señores sonrisas, éste señor sonrisas nunca creció más del metro treinta de estatura, y eso lo hacía el mejor señor sonrisas, ¿saben por qué? halloween era esa misma noche. todos los demás payasos bajo el cuidado del señor j eran demasiado altos, así que el señor sonrisas cargaba con una tarea especial: tomó tiempo y paciencia… bastante de ambas ya que el pequeñín no dejaba de revolotearse en su asiento, ¡tanto que tuvo que ser atado! pero al final se logró el objetivo, y el señor sonrisas lució los adentros de su propia piel como nadie nunca. desollarlo y cocerlo de vuelta fue un poco tardío, pero la reacción de los vecinos lo valió todo. por supuesto, el señor sonrisas murió por dolor y desangramiento, pero el señor j es un genio y pidió prestados al señor ventrílocuo algunas cuerdas y ¡voilà! toda la noche fue una compilación de “veamos quién está bajo esa máscara, dulzura” seguida de gritos…
‘ ¿… y usted qué tiene planeado para halloween, profesor crane? ’
@carpenoctuum ↷ 🤡
“ you’re clearly exhausted. why are you doing this to yourself? “ -JJ
“Because, clearly, I want to crash and burn and make sure my fucking mind goes before anything else.”
Aldous tried to stifle a yawn. He hadn’t really been sleeping lately. He’d gotten back on the bad habit of sleeping little… or not sleeping at all. Staying awake for a few days, binging on some strange experiment just to keep him up, only to crash for an entire day.
The dark rings under his eyes spoke volumes of his fatigue.
“You should know me by now, J.J.” His cruel mouth twisted up into a crooked grin. “I’m so damn stubborn.”
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@carpenoctuum !! ( JON )
ya era bastante extraño que un desconocido se le acercase con tanta confianza; normalmente un criminal no se atrevería a ello con la reputación que ya tiene gordon, pero eso no lo detiene de mostrar una pequeña sonrisa después de los pocos segundos que tomó al otro acomodarse en su asiento frente a jim.
“ hola ? ... lo siento, tengo mala memoria. nos conocemos de algún lado ? ”
‘ i’m always heavily, heavily medicated. ’ -Jon, probably at Arkham
SHARP OBJECTS STARTERS || ACCEPTING TIL DEATH
“Aren’t we all?” There’s a nicotine patch just above Mary’selbow; as she turns her head to look at Jon in the cell opposite, the fingers ofone hand pick at it absently. That’s nice of them, she supposes, but perhaps it’sjust a ploy to keep her from hiding cigarettes in the lining of her pillowcase.
No, on second thought, it might just be to keep her frombitching.
She leans forward a little towards the glass, towards thesquealing of trolley wheels and the shuffle of nurse’s shoes. “Room service,”she coos cheerfully. As the nurse in question – flanked by an orderly, lest thenasty patients try anything – finallymakes it into her line of sight, she’s rewarded with a scowl.
Three pills in a paper cup make it through the transfershelf by the door, accompanied by another cup of water. Mary takes them one byone, opening her mouth after each swallow – lookhere, proof. As the cart continues up the cell block, she watches them gosilently. Shooting Jon a smile, she pokes her tongue out from between her teethto reveal the lone pill stuck there.
“Don’t have to be.”
‘ you were born with it, that cold nature. ’ -Meister
SHARP OBJECTS STARTERS || ACCEPTING TIL DEATH
There’s a beat of silence – Mary’s face is guarded, one handholding the doorframe so tightly her knuckles have gone white. It’s the onlysign of the thunderous rage rumbling just beneath the surface. Her gaze skimsthe photos spread across the coffee table, the box turned over on its side byone of the couches.
Staged, every last one – she remembers the feel of a combscraping across her scalp, a sharp pinch just above her elbow from manicurednails. Louisa Dahl looks immaculate. She always did.
“Maybe it’s just genetics,” she says coolly. She catchessight of the picture in Meister’s hand and her lips purse; the lone candid shotamong them, Mary’s sharp, pinched expression standing out stark in black andwhite. There, Louisa with one to match. Marlon Dahl’s face is turned away fromthe shot, a man cowed.
She had been about nine then, poked and prodded to death. Grow, grow, grow— Her upper lip curls indisgust.
“He sent them yesterday. Burn them for me, why don’t you, ifyou’re taking the time to go through mymail.”