Mar 18, 2021
“ can you see me right now ? ”
Hazel’s head snapped up and she looked around warily until she found the source of the question. And....the man from the park.
“I....yes I can see you, sir.”
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“ can you see me right now ? ”
Hazel’s head snapped up and she looked around warily until she found the source of the question. And....the man from the park.
“I....yes I can see you, sir.”
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Old Friends
@evilbydesignphilosphy
Daken was walking through the Park when he caught a familiar scent.
>>No. It cannot be. I had thought him long since dead.<<
He spun on his heel and hurried off towards the scent, following his nose. As genuine a smile as he ever had painted his face in pleasure as he stepped through the trees and saw the other man.
“Renfield! It is truly a blessing to see you again. I had worried you were lost to time.”
* heimdall-of-surtur
He's so... Big?
Like
[Darcy lifts her hand over her head]
Pyeeewww big
❂
Send ❂ to get slapped by my muse
She’d raised her hand only in warning, meaning to make him back off, but her arm had followed through with the motion, and she was left with the sting of t in her palm and the red shape of her hand on his cheek.
➳
“It hurts so much…!”
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
As thou standeth before the glass distortion, as thou parade in feigned sociopathy, and wonder at the aching that etches you, deep and deeper than any blade, any fire; the wounds that do not close fully, that grow infected and weep pusflowers whose blooms shove away any whom might find any more than the mask and the matte. Deny them still, and live most of your days under a slow drowning tide. As drop by drop you are etched; mask by mask you are formed to your armor; flawless and feckless.
What is time but a riddle?
”Time is a force, a constant pressure that shifts and slides about the universe. It runs as a river does, careening about the planets and stars as it winds it’s way throughout the universe. It abrades, wears down all it touches with a kiss, that our minds forget it’s destructiveness, ignore it’s constant passage throughout our lives, clarity only coming in fleeting moments as we struggle to breathe through it all.
Time is an ocean, and we mere things are barely even the fish within.”
In chaos reign; opposite the spider-shadows that weaves in rigid order, casts pattern upon pattern as home, transit, trap and larder. Thine the burdens of the balance, as merely man and hero's mask, to hold the two together and neglect neither; to wobble and sway in the breeze that others might go safely though darkness and emerge again into light. How finds the self?
What?