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Love is a Dangerous Game
and when you fall in love, and you grow with them, and you are left with a broken heart, the roots still stay. the roots stay entwined till the day you die, and after. you can never kill something completely, only be in peace with the thought of it.
and at the end of the day, you will find someone again, and they will stay.
r.w
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
And just like that
you take apart my thoughts
like wishbones
and my heart
is yours to melt
- W.C.
eyes with truth and spark
beautiful and full of life
black cats hold magic
-l.m.
Source: Hannah Troupe on Unsplash
Hellooooo everybody~! I am participating in a writer’s camp over at Tapastic! Whoever gets the most subs wins 500 dollars! Pretty sweet, huh? It’d be great if you could lend your support by subbing to my new story, Protective Layer!
Here’s the synopsis~!
What is a city where art and religion are illegal? It is a faceless thing with no identity like a human who wears a mask. At night, when he has no other business, Kay gives the city and identity and personality by spray painting it. But Kay himself does not even have an identity; instead, he has many to hide the fact that he has none. He is a shell--a creature that is born and raised to do the work of criminals or whoever else is willing to buy him. With the help of his only true friend in the world, Tarr--a dragon who lives outside the city--can Kay realize he is more than a tool to manipulate and do criminal deeds?
Subbing is great, but leaving a like and commenting is even better! It lets me know you’re reading it so I can shower you with appreciation and it also keeps me inspired~!
familiar torture,
she haunts me yet
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
there’s a version of you still sitting in the backseat of your childhood. they never got out.
Misfortunes of the Living (RIP Cynthia)
(TW for discussing of grief, SI, and death)
A little over a year ago I started writing again, after almost a decade of giving too much credit to "friends" who either didn't understand what a first draft was, or consistently accused me of plagiarism in those times I'd find my voice by acknowledging my pain. On August 22, 2023, a close friend whom I initially bonded over shared trauma and our thoughts on writing 18 years ago, and then later photography in our 20's, passed away. For anyone who's "put up" with me since then, I'll never be able to properly thank you, as it does get incredibly lonely within grief when most of people simply don't have the patience for those actively suffering with grief. It especially gets alienating when people assume you're flaking on them to "wallow in your misery," when really you're struggling to sleep more than 3-4 hours, and you learn to stay silent rather than explain how you still haven't "moved on" from the guilt you feel for not being there for someone who never turned their back on you. It's not a romanticizing of pain, but an acknowledgement of what a person meant to you, doubly so as a fellow artist who struggled with self-confidence and depression... someone who, just like you, had their own hopes and dreams they'd yet to attain - now gone, never to see those things through - while you're still here, dealing with those same hurdles, with people dancing around the crux of their arguments that death isn't something to take seriously, when it's something I spent most of my 20's familiarizing myself with. On August 22, 2024, one year later - 10 minutes shy from when Cynthia's life ended - I read a piece I'd been working on for the better part of the past year, fulfilling a promise I made in High School, writing something for her. It's still not done, but given how much it makes me cry reading it, I know it's close. This is a 3 minute clip of it. RIP Cynthia Garcia.
I am Atlas
January, 2017
Child of the Piercer of Craftsmanship and the Ocean herself.
My brothers. They waged war upon the gods. They begged for my help. I led them into battle. We lost. We lost the war. I lost my family. And the only thing worse than the fact that I failed, was my punishment:
My strong and trunk-like legs to eternally stand at the corners of the sea, my titan hands and shoulders to hold the celestial heavens. To eternally separate the heavens from the earth. To keep the peace. To forever watch as my family are tortured in eternity within Tartarus while more of my family live their lives blindly in the old ways. I cannot move. I cannot falter. I cannot sleep.
But oh how I dream. I scatter my dreams across the night sky, and grow orchards of golden apples that contain those dreams. I gift mankind with an enduring love for the ocean and love for dreams in the constellations I hold.
I will endure. I will remain. When all else fails. I will still stand.
