Dec 21, 2019
graedum replied to your post: Yeah baby just SMEAR all that golden glitter all...
Spreading paint on canvas is a common painting technique.
....... You PAINT with it???
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graedum replied to your post: Yeah baby just SMEAR all that golden glitter all...
Spreading paint on canvas is a common painting technique.
....... You PAINT with it???
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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@graedum
Your aesthetic is a delight ♥ I simply must compliment you and your tastes for blessing my evening!
graedum replied to your post “#: ) Oh ha ha, like you didn’t already figure it out when we met.”
You are so very transparent.
I am a brick wall of ineffable secrets that normal, non omniscient people would never know to seek, but I’m punishing you with this photo anyway.
@graedum @byxnyothername
And a hello to the two of you!
My name is Gehenna, part time tattoo enthusiast and full time connoisseur of gems and metals.
@inutechy @graedum @neonnecro @barroomsermon @breakingnxws Bonjour. Or bonsoir depending on when you read this. My name is Red.
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
✒ klaus
Send me a ✒ for a handwritten note from my muse to yours.
The calligraphy of hers is curly, elegant and capitalizes the letters with cute twirls of the feathery pen he has already seen her use. It looks like she amply moves her wrist while writing, so everything looks round like a bubble -- particulary the words with D and S in it. The letter has been left on his nightstand, and will probably be brought to him by one of his servants. Her scent still lingers on it even after so many hours.
My beloved Klaus, Thank you for believing in me.
You see potential in me and you saw it from the start. I don't know why and what impression you had of me at the moment I stepped into your manor. When I did I was still naive, terrified and unsure of my position, with silly ideas going through my mind. I was still recovering from my wounds, external and internal -- and even if so, in front of a cup of tea and your gaze never leaving my insecure face, you pledged loyalty to me. You did so fully knowing that one day everything could fall, and you could fall with me. You, and the other Sins.
I don't know if I'm what you looked for somewhat of a lover (for lack of better terms...? or in case you don't like the term 'lovers'). Sometimes I'm spoiled, loud and excessively naive, yet you somehow treat me like I'm one of the most delicate, gorgeous flowers you have laid your eyes into. The small smile you show me whenever I pop up uninvited or not thrills me, the familiarity of your touches and your presence is... strange, but comforting. I don't know from where it comes, but it's there. And I like it. And I like what we have.
I will visit you again soon, Yours, Simon
The healing master bandages your torso, your arms and leg and give you a potion to sleep. And God, do you sleep... for eight, long hours, hair spread on the soft pillows and a light, white night gown to shield the worst of it.
The Sins come to visit, enraged by your treatment. There are threats of death flying, quiet anger and worry, and soft touches in order not to reopen the wounds. You give them quiet smiles and hold them to comfort, lingering with Hirae -- and then with Klaus for some time. It's a quiet haze accompanied by the kids voices and the sun settling, and heavy eyelids threatening to close...
Before you slip in, the worried voice of Michael informs the older, luxurious Sin that there was someone sitting in your desk those days -- and they melted upon contact.
Curious.
And when you wake up, there's the vaguely threatening presence of Wrath by your bedside, comfortably sitting in one of your soft chairs.
Focusing on his silouetthe and his relieved grin makes you dizzy, and you bat your lashes and shift to close your eyes. You crack them open a moment after, giving him a puzzled, hazed gaze as you focus on the room.
Your experience has been hell... literally and figuratively. You can remember what happens just fine, but it triggers a slight tremble going on your hands and wrists, and you give up halfway. You inhale painfully, conscious of the deep tears across your chest and the slighty stained bandages, and carefully flex your fingers. You exhale, and it sounds like you're in slight pain and discomfort. And you give up on even sitting. You're in no conditions to.
Instead, the only thing you do is shakily reach for Wrath's hand, wrapping small fingers around his digits for some comforting safety and a familiar hold. For once there are no comments about your lack of strenght, mockings or even worse -- disappointment. There's just vague static in your ear and peaceful silence.
The angels will scream later. For now, you rest.
==> Your mood is still untouched, all smiles and happiness, and in this you don't lie: Wrath is home, Static will get her party, and you're happy to spend the days with them both. As your hands sink in cookie dough, your brain pumps at lights speed. ==> You regret the contract, this is true enough to let you admit it to yourself without your pride being hurt. You're still young and naive, too trusting... and Caerul and Kalren both have bitten your hand several times, the bitemarks still visible in your mind. Obedience was proven, to a degree, and you have ordered him to get better soon and to descend into his own circle whenever the times would have been good for him. ==> But the video of him torturing a traitor to death... it still chills you deeply. You're not afraid of his powers -- but the words spoken frightened you, reminding you of your past time. Of anything he could do to shatter your psyche, it was using the same words as He did once, staring down at your wounded figure with cold eyes and a smirk. ==> ''This, and even worse, is what will happen in case of another betrayal. Remember it!'' And he used some of the exact same words at him, prickling at your nerves and fears. ==> He's heading into your own Hell, and somehow you feel the impellent need to run to Klaus, Wrath, Lust and Pride and Sloth and warn them all of what is about to come, paranoia welling up in your throat. You'd sob against them all, but you have to stays strong. You are the Queen, unfalthering and unmoved by crude remarks. ==> ... So why do you feel like a scared child, now? ==> You remember his dark chuckle, and your shoulders start shaking again. It's more controlled, and it goes away in a few or more deep breaths -- and the smug grin in front of your face, circled by alabaster skin and dark eyes, dissolves into nothing. ==> You're on alarm, brain frantically working along with anxiety. You find yourself angered from the whole situation, humiliated, and greedy for a solution, the need to cling to possible resolves almost scorching down your throat. ==> You want to go down, but you have a party to host. You feel watched, and you surrender when tears prickle at your eyes as you call Wrath for some comfort, a little frightened woman in need, making it with needing some help in the kitchen. ==> ... Your Lucifer is dead. One day, you might be able to accept it. But not with the memory being this fresh.