wrong blog will

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wrong blog will

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Thirsty comment dude's name is "THIGHABETIC", not too surprised he left that. I swear most the dudes are straight DEHYDRATED and aint got no game at that. Then wanna be begging for nudes when theres a whole damn tag they could look through
it was chaosghost who made the comment, as far as i know thighabetic is pretty cool but chaosghost has proven himself to be a fuckboy before. i think he said something about how girls who drink alcohol are sloppy or something.Â
but yeah girl dudes need to find a water cooler asap. like its a fucking picture of me at comicon not even in COSTUME for god’s sake. like chill out
will i thought about the phrase "this man wore a toolbelt at all times" during class and almost wept
I think about the phrase "Adam's hair was laid like he was in WASP or Poison in the mid 80s" damn near daily

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Act I, Chapter III:
Daemion, along with Len, who was redressed in the torn and bloodstained t-shirt and jeans that she'd been in when he'd found her, pushed his way through the emptying halls of the hospital's second floor. As the pair rounded a corner into a vacant corridor, Len finally spoke up.
"Would you please tell me where the hell we're going?"
"Now, where would be the fun in that?" Daemion chuckled.
"You two sure like your secrets, huh?" Len scowled.
"We're secretive? You haven't even told me your name."
"You shoot fire from your hands and won't tell me how the hell you manage that. Plus, you didn't exactly give me the chance to do so."
Daemion stopped, running his hand along the wall, searching for something, "You have the chance right now."
"Len. Len Liu."
"Well," Daemion said, sliding open a panel, revealing what looked like a camera and a speaker, "If nothing else, you have an interesting name."
"What's that supposed - " Len was cut off by a woman's voice, almost robotic, coming from the speaker.
[PREPARE FOR RETINAL SCAN.]
Daemion lined his eye up to the camera, as the voice called out again.
[RETINAL SCAN INITIALIZING... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... COMPLETE.]
[PLEASE SPEAK PASSCODE.]
"V-L-E-3-2-9-X-0-2-7-3." Daemion rattled off the sequence, each digit rolling off of his tongue as if it were a second language.Â
[PASSCODE RECOGNIZED.]
[VOICE PRINT RECOGNIZED.]
[WELCOME, DAEMION R. EVANS.]Â
A section of the wall, directly in front of Daemion swung wide open, unveiling another room.
"After you." Daemion said.
"Such a gentleman."
"Why, thank you."Â
"You're..." Len trailed off, "What the hell is this?"
"What is what?"
"That." the girl pointed to a large tube protruding from the floor and curving towards them.
"Oh, that would be our ride." Daemion replied, entering the room, door shutting behind him.
"What?!"
"It's like a slide. Although, I don't recommend going down headfirst."
"I'm not going down that at all."
"Look, I know this all seems really sketchy, and everything's happening super fast and all that, but.." Daemion paused, putting his hands on Len's shoulders, unknowingly uttering the same phrase his older self had spoken to her in the alley, "You've just gotta trust me, okay?"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
This was not what Lexx had signed up for. Her job was to kill the girl; nothing more, nothing less. No one had said anything about the suit-clad man who'd just driven her knives into the tile with nothing more than a look. No, no, no, this was not what she had signed up for at all. And no amount of Syndicate money was worth dealing with this. She had to get the hell out of here. Except she couldn't. As she turned to flee, she found that she couldn't move. Her legs felt heavy, as if had been replaced with bricks, This was bad. The man moved closer, every step heavy and deliberate, a smirk plastered to his face. She was going to die, or worse, be tortured and sent back to The Syndicate, and killed by them.
As his arm extended towards her, Lexx closed her eyes, praying that it would at least be swift, if not painless. She felt a single finger press into her sternum, light as a feather. Opening one eye to inspect the situation, she saw the man mouth one word.
"Gotcha."
All the feeling returned to her legs, but before she could turn and run, she felt a pressure flow through her chest, out through her back and then, she was flying. Not "Up, up, and away!" flying; it was much more "shot out of a cannon" flying. Smashing through the hospital doors, glass slicing her back and arms, only one thought ran through her mind.
'This is not what I signed up for.'