Jul 7
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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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They are infected
They are torn
They are rejected
They are born
Are they forlorn? Yes! They are forlorn
I am...
The silverhawk,
The razorking,
The cosmic observer,
The galactic crusader,
The eater of thoughts,
The watcher of eyes,
The drinker of skies...
...I am the macabre enslaver...
...Invisible but invincible
First ArtFight piece for @eonianarchives <3
Gifts for friends 💙
Erinyus for @eonianarchives and Romania for @auntarivia ^^
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
I think I just realized something, I was reading a YouTube comment along the lines of "suppressors need to be regulated because we need to give victims of mass shootings as much warning as possible" and it clicked to me, people who are for gun control generally only see firearms in the news or other spaces in relation to crime and because of that they can only think of firearms in relation to crime, in other words imagine someone who lives in the city and rarely sees chainsaws outside of horror movies If you walked up to them with a chainsaw they would probably get nervous because instead of associating chainsaws with cutting down trees they associate it with the Texas chainsaw massacre
don’t waste your lips on words i’ve heard before, kiss my tired head, and each letter written wastes your hand, young man, come and lead me to your bed. you gave me hope that i’d not lost her and then thought it rather strange to see me smile as i don’t do too much smiling these days…
she put on happiness like a loose dress over pain i’ll never know ‘so the peace you had’ she says, ‘i must confess, i’m glad to see it go!’ we’re two white roses lying frozen just outside his door, i made you so happy and so sad, which should i be more sorry for?
come kiss my face goodbye, the space below my eye and above my cheek, because i’m faint and fading fast and i see a darkness, and i shall be released. i’ll pass like a fever from this body, softly slip into his hands, i tried to love you and i failed, but i’ve another plan.
my lord, how long to sing this song? and my lord, how much more of this pretending to be strong? when she stands before your throne dressed in beauty not her own, all soft and small, you’ll hear her call, ‘you brought me here, now
now take me home.’
