$LAYYYTER
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@wailist
THEY THREW HER INTO THE FLAMES AND LAUGHED THINKING SHE WOULD BURN ALIVE. IMAGINE HOW THEY TREMBLED WHEN SHE ROSE FROM THEM INSTEAD. NOT A GIRL; BUT A DRAGON. Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â SOMETIMES THE FIRE CLEANSES | SOMETIMES THE FIRE DESTROYS.
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've really lost muse for lydia the past few weeks and I don't see her coming back anytime soon so i've been working on a new muse and i'll be sure to leave links for her over here soon.
hs yearbook meme : tw + best dressed - Lydia Martin ârequested by @martinskidetectivesâ
requested by anonymous: lydia + protecting people
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 trust your garden was willing to die - i do not think that                        mine was - it perished with beautiful reluctance
                           ind. allison argent / written by mars.
.
OMG WHAT IS HAPPENING?Â
i've been absent a lot because iâm a sick egg and itâs been kicking my butt, but I am returning once again and i have started creating a new blog, too which iâm super excited about.
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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âI canât just turn this on. Iâm not like you guys. I donât have claws or glowing eyes or super senses, I just have voices inside my head.â
i'm probably going to be spending my night doing icons for my son; and also will be there tomorrow.
STILES:
                    the softest of sighs tilts in the air, silence BROKEN only by the sound of marker moving across a glass board. letters drawn soon become WORDS, which lead to sentences, to patterns. seemingly meaningless, he HOPES only to see them make sense. stepping back, AMBER eyes survey his work, searching for some sense or REASON to the latest catastrophe. only at her ENTRANCE do eyes look up, entranced for a moment, before he turns back to his work.         â what do you think ?  iâve been at it for DAYS, trying to figure it out. but i just⌠i have NOTHING. â
@wailist is voided.
     burnt hues flash with a peaked interest, the boy; tired in stance draws her attention, contemplation   sitting in the CREASE between her brows, the board was evident with workings ( scribbles, lines,   dashes) all MOULDING into a blur of thoughts. itâs a faint pool of worry spills into her complexion,   he was burdened with the knowledge; & the NEED to know the cause. â -- you look like you havenât   slept for a couple of days. but itâs something; how about you take a break? â
???:
wailist
                 "No offence, but uhâ you donât look nothin'                  like a banshee or a wailinâ woman or whatever.                  Shouldnât you be more, y'know, freaky and                  ghost-like or somethinâ?â
     milk white flesh pales at the curling of lithe fingers, knuckles dusting the odd shade     of alabaster. an interested expression wears comfortably before her head INCLINES     slightly. â why would I be freaky or ghost-like? âÂ
me: i should do replies. lydia: nah.
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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beneath sallow eyes, SHADOWS dark as coal emerge. they speak of voided plains, of a childhood ended before itâs begun. WHO NEEDS TO BE HAPPY ? Â bred for survival, you walk, a CATALYST in the night, a CATASTROPHEÂ of a boy. rot drawn from your lungs, you speak of RIDDLES, of open doors. YOU TRADED YOUR BAT FOR A WRENCH, bloody && cold. swing it hard, feel the bone SHATTER, the marrow SPILL. murderer. guilt WEIGHS heavy, a dark stain over your heart. WHO NEEDS TO BE HAPPY ? Â you traded your bat for a wrench, YOUR INNOCENCE FOR CRIMSON STAIN. blood coats alabaster fingertips, nevermore to wash clean.
the feeling of the ground RUMBLES as if an earthquake is shaking the world. it is you, soldier, who shakes the ground, splits it open, and fire flows forth in your w a k e. you are a beast, you are a demon, you are a protector of all. you come when you are needed, resting in slumber, silently observing and guarding until your ferocity is needed. a hellhound, a monster, a war is your destiny - one you will win. | graphic credit
