Mar 24, 2024
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⟡⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅|| @vvasilisa - liked!
ㅤㅤ❝𝓢o... you're the one that dated... Bolin?❞
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⟡⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅|| @vvasilisa - liked!
ㅤㅤ❝𝓢o... you're the one that dated... Bolin?❞
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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❛ i'm not going back. ❜ if her fingers tighten even more around the wine glass, it'll break. perhaps that would be fine in her own home, but there were eyes on them here. and if there's anything she knows to do best - it's to play a part. morgana loosens her grip on the glass, a muscle ticking in her jaw. ❛ take the title, orin. i'm done being dad's puppet to string along. now, can i please attend this gathering without being harassed? ❜ / @vvasilisa .
starter / @vvasilisa
" i was supposed to get married once , too. " she says , & the words sit heavy in the air for but a moment , before she is swiftly undercutting her own sincerity. " i mean , the guy was a complete douchebag , so i ended it , of course. but , you know ... i think that killing him might have been a good option to consider. "
i owe walt and this artist everything (do not reblog)
@vvasilisa said: ‘ i lost someone . the only … the only person i’ve ever truly loved more than myself . ’ * pieck uwu (umbrella academy starters) (acc.)
-------------- There is a veil in Pieck’s voice ash she speaks, that makes her intentions impossible to decipher. Her admission falls into his ear and sinks like a stone to the bottom of the dark waters he would call a soul; slowly, they erode and take a new life of their own. From admission of grief, they become a profession of love. Then they morph into a call for help. Finally, polished off of all their coating, they reveal their edges, turn into accusation. Whether Pieck means to or not is irrelevant. He sits still under the scorching light of her judgement, be it real or imaginary - the effect on his damaged mind is the same.
She was with you. You were supposed to bring them all home - why isn’t she here? Marcel asks himself those same questions, every day, every waking minute, since the day they had left Paradis. Sometimes he hears them in his own voice, sometimes Magath’s; very often Pieck’s, though he cannot recall her asking them out loud. Not to him, at least. There is an open, gaping wound in his best friend’s chest, and she lashes out, sometimes; more often than not, directs her ire at Reiner. Marcel has gotten off easy, thus far. It feel unfair, really. It’s my fault, Pieck. I’m the one who failed to bring her back to you.
“I’m sorry, Pieck.” His voice used to be akin to a proud roar, once. These days, it seems to be barely more than a whisper. It is late at night, and they sit by the pier, with nothing but the sound of waves quietly crashing against the docks and bleak moonlight for company. They sit next to each other, shoulders almost brushing; and yet, there is the absence that sits between like, like hungry maw swallowing everything up to their silence. “We... I failed her. I failed you.” Dare he tell her, how every time he closes his eyes, he sees them? Bertholdt, carved out of his invincible titan; Annie entombed in crystal coffin. How he wishes he could say he would do anything, sacrifice anything to bring them back. How he wishes he could spit such a promise without flinching, honest and earnest. They both know it wouldn’t be true. They both know there will always be one pull more powerful than anything else. Arguably, that pull had already been. Arguably, Annie and Bertholdt are paying the price for it. “If there is anything you want to know... I’ll tell you everything about Paradis. Fuck the brass and their classified bullshit.”
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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fingers reach / pattering in the air / the soft flutter of skin brushes as the distance closes [careful, this ackerman might bite.] a hum sits, & a gleeful laugh will fill the silence again ; she picks the petals from night-hued hair / how hair is the color of a crow & the flower petals -- the way they fall, something about them strikingly remind you of blood [you have seen too much blood in your life-] shush. you shake your head / no need for that, & there, without a beat, you carry on with your tune. ' it's funny how they just pile up on you, heh. ' * hitch
a tree taller than the sky, leaves as lush as the clouds above them. bright is the sun, but even so her eyes remained closed. least till she felt a feather light touch in the mess of her hair, carefully plucking out what she assumed to be leaves or petals. she doesn’t mind the touch, though she reacts by a subtle twitch of her finger, brushing along the grass before them. “ is it? ” she replies, eventually opening her eyes to see hitch before her. it was a quiet day, nice even. she didn’t quite mind the time, or doing nothing. it felt nice for once, to simply rest these bones of her’s. 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞. she wonders, could she ever find it? maybe not here, but back in the thickness of woods, a little cottage with fields of these very flowers.
𝑦𝑒𝑎ℎ... 𝑠ℎ𝑒’𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡. she sits up then, seeing a few collect in the other’s hair as well. not a word is spoken as the gesture is returned, nimble finger tips collecting what had gathered in a** sea of gold**. “ should we go back soon? ” a question she doesn’t quite want the answer too. she wanted to stay right here for awhile longer. @vvasilisa_ !!_
Alma vc: you had premarital sex?? Cringe
you had an affair with a balding married man w/ five children?? cringe.
sweeps her papers on the floor & lays on her desk: tit rate? don't forget the feel test, miss reiss uwu
9/10. you get docked a point too for being annoying.