#bootstring

[sexypinkon]

Sexypink - NEWS - Never give up.

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Douen | A Trinidad Folklore Short Horror FilmWhen Steven's little sister Emily mysteriously goes missing, no one can point any fingers, until the truth slowly starts to unfold, leading them to discover Emily's disappearance similarly follows the old Trinidad folklore tale of the Douen. 

This film is an official selection for the Film and Folklore Festival 2022.

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇 . ( a collection of lyric - based prompts based on hozier's album . adjust phrasing as necessary . )

i'm holding my world together with a bootstring .

i would do it again if i could hold you for a minute .

my life was a storm since i was born , how could i fear any hurricane ?

heaven is not fit to house a love like you and i .

i miss when we did not need much .

we didn't get it right , but we did our best .

when people say that something is forever , either way it ends .

i have never known a silence like the one fallen here .

there's money to be made , whatever is still to come .

i don't want to be anything like this at all .

there are some things that nobody teaches you .

we can celebrate the good that we've done .

if there was anyone to get through this life with their heart in tact , they didn't do it right .

all i needed was someone .

you only feel it when it's lost .

the awful things we do to make our heads feel quiet .

you may never know your fortune .

so far from home to have a stranger call you 'darling' .

i'm a butchered tongue still singing here above the ground .

if i was a riptide , i wouldn't take you out .

knowing that everything ends won't change our plan .

i feel lighter than i have in so much time .

i don't know how the feeling ended .

i know we want this to go easy by being somebody's fault .

how could i fall when i am lifted by every word you say to me ?

if i said that this was drowning , you'd tell me i'm walking on water .

who wants to live forever , babe ?

old and young are welcome to the meal .

how can something be so much heavier but so much less than what it seems ?

we had nowhere to go and every desire to go there .

if i fall , i only pray , don't fall away from me .

all our weight is just a burden offered to us by the world .

getting through still has a cost .

so much of our life is just carving through the dark .

after this i'm never gonna be the same .

some part of me must have died the first time you called me 'baby' .

are there limits to emptiness ?

i wish i was the sunlight , just sitting on the mississippi .

if you need to , darling , lean your weight onto me .

you can't buy this fineness .

some part of me must have come alive the first time you called me 'baby' .

the future's so bright it's burning .

i would do anything just to run away .

i heard once , it's the comforts that make us feel numb .

darkness always finds you , either way .

i know being reckless and young isn't how the damage gets done .

i haven't felt it since then .

i do not have wings , love , and i never will .

one time we would want for nothing , we knew what our love was worth .

i think i'll take my whiskey neat .

i'd still be surprised i could find you , in any life .

i don't need to know where we begin and end .

my name always hits my ears as such an awful sound .

i'm taking no orders , i'm gonna be nobody's soldier .

living the dream , benzos and gasoline .

i wish i could go along , don't get me wrong .

do you think i'd give up ?

i'm infinitely suffering , but fighting it off like all creation .

if you're drunk on life , babe , that's great .

what good would it be on the far side of things ?

i aim low , i aim true and to the ground is where i go .

i wouldn't sell the world , i would hold on for all its worth .

choose between being a butcher and a pauper .

i feel as useful as dirt .

it's the sound of it that brings me here .

when was the last time ?

i want to fade away with you .

whatever keeps you around , it keeps you around .

funny how true colors shine in darkness and secrecy .

when i was younger , i used to guess if there were limits to emptiness .

you know i'm good on my own .

one bright morning changes all things .

i'm sick to my skin , watching the news again .

how could you think i'd scare so easily ?

now that it's done , there's not one thing i would change .

would all things god allows remain above ground ?

i'd walk so far just to take the injury of finally knowing you .

you treat your mouth like it's heaven's gate .

could this be how every day begins ?

i can scarce believe what i'm believing in .

whatever you choose , you lose in the long run .

your reflection can't offer a word to the bliss of not knowing yourself .

the goal i was aiming for was the wrong one .

you're too sweet for me .

your heart , love , has such darkness .

let the sun only shine on me through a falling sky .

i don't wanna choose between being a salesman and a soldier .

how do you sleep so well ?

i wouldn't sell the world for all the gold and sterling .

the street is for the laughter of young women and men .

you can keep a dream in your mind only to find out it's the hope that's killing you .

each time i'm shocked by the light .

july is still coming , just knowing that gets me through .

maybe i have yet to venture out and see the places i dream about .

no closer could i be to god .

what you live in , it finds a way to live in you .

i want to be so far away from sight and mind .

you know the distance made no difference to me .

i thought you were like an angel to me .

i'd move so fast that i'd outpace the dawn .

all my love and terror balanced there between those two eyes .

i'm still glad i met you .

that moment i knew , i had no choice but to love you .

[notthegrouch]

Sometimes I think about The Neverending Story again, and I get sad at how popular the 1980's movie was and how obscure the book still is; because they ask the same question, but they arrive at different answers because the movie only adapts the first half of the book.

Basically, The story asks how do you defeat an all-encompassing unbeatable gloom, an emptiness that is felt by everyone in the world, a sense of dread and terror and hopelessness; a theme that is very close to the heart of writer Michael Ende, who grew up in 1930s and '40s germany, raised by a father who was declared a "degenerate artist" and was banned by the nazi state. It's fair to say that Michael had some things to say about doom, gloom, terror and hopelessness.

In the film, Bastian gives the Childlike Empress a new name (it's implied he gives her his mothers name, but barely audible you hear him yell Moonchild into the storm), he then gets as many wishes as he needs to fix Fantasia and then he gets to ride Falkor into the Real World and bully his bullies back. The end. You fight the doom and gloom of The Nothing that infects both reality and imagination by pulling yourself up by your bootstrings and by putting bullies into their place by showing stronger and meaner.

In the book, Bastian also gives the Childlike Empress a new name. He also gets Wishes to see and remake Fantasia. except this is where the similarities end. In the book he gets to wear AURYN and it's inscribed with the words "Do what you want". Bastian explicitly interprets this as "Do everything you wish to do" and slowly but surely he corrupts himself into fantasizing himself to be the new worthy ruler of Fantasia, accidentally making himself the enemy of Atreyu and the Childlike Empress, characters he looked up to before he lived in Fantasia. There's also the fact that with each story he tells and each wish he makes in fantasia he forgets more and more about who he is and where he comes from. His wishes cause problems, create chaos and explicitly become new stories of their own that need to be finished. There is a whole town in Fantasia filled with people who got lost in fantasies just like Bastian, and Michael Ende draws comparisons between that town and the Infinite Monkey-Infinite Typewriters thought experiment/theorem. Ultimately Bastian needs help from Atreyu to even walk, express desires and remorse.

And as he gets ready to leave Fantasia, he hears that there's only one way to exit; by finishing the story that you started here. And that is impossible. He has dozens of plot branches running, he has no more memories to give, he is weak, he is lonely and he is scared.

Bastian is reduced to his most basic desire; He is a child, and he just wants to go home.

That is when Atreyu steps up and fulfills his role as a fantasy hero: he takes it up to himself to finish all of Bastians stories, in his place. Bastian is not supposed to be Hero of Fantasia, Atreyu is. Bastian can leave the world of fantasy behind, and can go home to his dad and actually properly mourn his mother without losing himself in fantasies and imaginations where he can hide from big feelings.

Ultimately he "Does what he wants". He fights the Nothing by finding meaning in his fantasy world, but applying it in the real world. He does NOT give in to his fantasies of overpowering his bullies, his desire to be big, heroic, athletic and powerful, he finds no use in getting millions of wishes, he lets go of imagination as a way to escape responsibilities and big feelings, because he realizes that these are all behaviors where he loses who he is, and what feeds the Nothing.

So the book basically gives the exact opposite advice on how to fight doom: one says do whatever you wish, as long as you have something powerful to back you up.

The other says Think deep about what your purpose is on this world, and about what your needs are, and then do that with focus and intent, in order to not lose yourself to baseless gut instinct desires that are better left in the realm of fantasy.

Why am I thinking about all of this now?

Probably no reason, right? it's not like the constant 24hr news cycle isn't spewing out a sense of dread, terror and hopelessness, it isn't as if extreme right wing rhetoric is on the rise again, and as if certain demographics are targeted and labeled as degenerates and/or subhuman again, is it?

So, basically, if you have the chance, read the book.

[oculusxcaro]

So... you remember me talking about maybe getting a snake the other day? Well, guess who just arrived home.

He's a wee bootstring right now and the photo doesn't really do him justice because he's always on the move but he's an Anerythristic corn snake (confirmed male) and the first thing he did when the owner put him in my hand was nom my finger very gently. I was so tempted to get the Palmetto BUT didn't know they had a genetic default known as bug-eyed. 😔 Very gorgeous snake and the owner showed me the father but in the end, my heart chose the anery (or rather, his mouth chose me!) Not quite the ball python I was intending to get but since it's been so long since I've had a snake, I'll hold onto this wee danger noodle for now to make sure I can take care of him! Managed a quick journey home but now he's sitting inside a nice warm cave, chilling. When he's settled in a bit, I'm going to spoil the fuck out of him with some little plants and so on but for now I'll let him destress. Haven't picked a name yet but... maybe Rorschach? Because he'll grow up to become black and white. :D

[violettduchess]

Leon and this prompt: laughing at their messy hair in the morning

He has the perfect hair for this 😉

A/N: Ok no, its not angst but I saw @leonscape feeling so down about there being not a lot of Leon content and I remember when I said the same thing and asked for requests and wrote like, 2 of them 🙈 So I decided to set Silvio aside for a moment and give Leon some love.

For you, Sui 💜

Fluff/ a tiny bit of angst, Leon x f reader

💥Spoiler warning for Leon's route 💥

WC: 941

Sunday mornings are made for lounging in a cozy bed, surrounded by bed sheets that are still warm with the night’s body heat. They are made for flagrantly ignoring the sunlight peeking through the curtains of the arched palace windows and for pretending that if you don’t get up, the day will wait for you. Sunday mornings are for sleepy smiles, warm embraces, softly-spoken words. For gathering the energy you’ll need when facing an austere, humorless Monday.

He’s usually the one who wakes up first. Leon has always been a light sleeper and an early riser, a survival tool built into the very bones of his character, carved there by his nightmare of an early childhood. If you woke first, you weren't kicked awake by a slaver’s heavy boot. Or worse, by the sting of their whip. A light sleeper would hear when another slave, creeping slowly to keep their chains from rattling, was trying to sneak up and steal his treasured items: a small metal coin, a bootstring, a leathery piece of jerky. Waking easily and early is just one more scar courtesy of the sharp claws of his past.

But Sundays….there is something about the safety of a Sunday morning that allows him to sleep, to let leisure and peace sink into his mind and keep him dreaming. You prop yourself up on one elbow to look at him. His golden eyes are closed, fringed by lashes dark as pitch. His mouth, always ready with a smile, is relaxed, more serious in sleep. And then there is his hair…..

It is a jungle of dark locks, a wild cacophony of brown spikes that sits upon his head, reminding you of….you consider a moment….reminding you of a fluffy, self-righteous hedgehog, daring you to just try and tame it. The image makes you laugh out loud and one golden eye slowly opens.

“I know what you’re doing.” His voice is thick with sleep, sandpaper-rough.

“Me?” You press a hand to your heart, eyes wide with feigned innocence, bright with amusement. “I don’t know what you mean, your highness.”

“Hmm.” He stretches his body languidly, the bed sheets sliding off of his bare shoulder. You resist the urge to keep pulling it down since you know for a fact he sleeps without a stitch of clothing. “You….,” he murmurs, stifling a yawn, “are…..” And then he moves with a speed that his sleepy stretching left you unprepared for, rolling until he has you pinned underneath him, caging you in as he supports his weight on his strong forearms. “...a terrible liar, love.”

Laughter, bright as sunshine on water, escapes you. You meet his beautiful gaze with a grin.

"I have no idea what you mean." 

There it is. The radiant chord of connection slowly winding itself around both your hearts, binding you to each other. You feel it in the thrill of his skin against yours. You see it in the twinkling of tenderness in his eyes.

“Fess up. What have you decided my hair looks like this morning?”

Sunday mornings are a time for tradition and you two have fallen into this one completely by accident. Maybe because you have the time to linger in bed or because for once he isn’t up and dressed before you, but somehow Sunday mornings have become a time for you to affectionately laugh at the tornado of bedhead that he never fails to wake up with and tease him for it.

You slide your palms, one right next to the other, over the hard planes of his chest, the feel of the muscle and sinew a delight to the touch. Up over his broad shoulders, your fingers curling over the rounded edges. Eventually you reach his neck where they interlock and you glance up at him.

“Maybe….I thought this morning’s hair….resembles…an indignant hedgehog.”

There is no sound as musical to your ears as when he laughs and you are rewarded with an entire concert. The initial burst of surprised laughter and then he lowers his body, covering you entirely with it as he buries his face in the curve of your neck, his shoulders still shaking with every chuckle. You join him, his amusement contagious as your laughter intertwines with his.

He lifts his head, a wide grin lighting up his handsome face.

“You do know you’re speaking to a Prince of Rhodolite, yes?” His voice wraps itself around you, flows over you like warm water.

You return his grin, one hand brushing the rowdy locks of hair away from his forehead. “Oh dear. I��ve insulted the crown. Whatever will become of me?”

His smile turns wicked, as does the press of his body against yours. In the space of a heartbeat the morning mood has shifted from something warm and soft to something sharp with heated potential. He turns his head, pressing a kiss into the corner of your mouth.

“For the crime of mocking a member of the royal family, I hereby sentence you to a lifetime of kisses, to be delivered by you to the offended prince.”

You would laugh but he’s shifted, his head dropping to leave a soft line of kisses down your neck and your breath has quite rapidly abandoned you.

“A whole lifetime, huh?…..I suppose….” You reach for him, gently urging him to raise his head. “I better get started.”

He leans down and you angle your head to meet in a kiss that glows with the heat of desire and the brightness of affection. 

As you wrap your arms around this man who owns your whole heart, you know what else Sunday mornings are for.

Love.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart

[nostalgiachan]

Baldurian Finger Trap

Second Prompt: One of the companions has been gone from camp for a very long time

Act Three Spoiler Warning

---

“Darling, it’s Minsc,” Astarion sighed, his hand gently landing on Vier’s shoulder. “That lummox would get lost on a straight path, I’m certain. And lest we forget, he’s a grand world-saving hero…twice over, yes? So any poor soul dumb enough to try to jump him on his little outing will get the quite literal spanking of a lifetime.”

Vier reached a hand up to meet Astarion’s. In any other circumstance, she would have agreed with him. But in the last tenday or so, their camp had been met with one attempted abduction, one successful abduction, and multiple visits from a deviless who she was sure would look for any excuse to cause them problems. The party had relocated to a room in the Elfsong Tavern in hopes that it would prove a slightly more defensible location than a wide-open alleyway in the slums by the docks, but that did little to put Vier’s mind at ease. On top of all that, the last time Minsc ‘went missing’, he’d gotten a worm jammed in his skull, and before that, turned into a statue. She trusted him to take care of himself, but there was no denying the man’s a lightning rod of misfortune.

It had been a day since Minsc had headed out into the Lower City on some sort of errand. About the only person who knew where he was headed was Jaheira, who’d lightly scoffed when asked. “Why does everyone seem to think me the man’s keeper now?” she’d replied when Vier asked about him. “He’d said something about taking Boo to the marketplace. Something ‘urgent’, apparently.” She did admit that it shouldn’t have taken him this long to come back from market, and he wasn’t exactly the type to go carousing through the streets and accidentally fall asleep in an alley somewhere.

Vier wasn’t prone to assuming the worst, but in this case, she could no longer take chances. “I know,” she answered Astarion as she ran a thumb over his hand, “but I’d be much more at ease if I knew for certain. I’ll go out to look for him by myself. No sense dragging anyone else along just to soothe my paranoia.”

“Well, I’d be remiss if I let you go looking on your own,” Astarion replied with faux exasperation. “Two sets of eyes will get the job done faster, after all. I do hope you appreciate this.”

“You know I always do, dear.”

. . .

If there was anywhere Vier had expected to ultimately find the Mad Rasheman, it was not facing a stone wall just off the marketplace, two of his fingers jammed in a tiny hole. He looked deep in concentration, attempting to wiggle his hands together, apart, this way and that. He didn’t seem to notice Vier and Astarion as they approached him. The startled roar that escaped the man as Vier spoke up was one for the ages.

“Friends!” he cheered at last when he realized who was speaking to him. “Hurrah for you, that you have finally come to free Minsc and Boo from this dire situation!”

Vier couldn’t keep her clear befuddlement from her face. “What, erm…’dire situation’ is this, precisely?” she asked.

“To put simply,” Minsc began in earnest, “I am stuck. You see, Boo wished for me to take him on a trip to market. He’d heard word someone would be selling a foreign nut he’s grown quite fond of, and he would not stop chewing at my bootstrings until I agreed to buy some for him. Oh, you should have seen his joy as he stuffed his chubby cheeks!”

The mountain of a man practically glowed for a moment as he recalled the sight, but he quickly returned to himself. “But for a split second, I turned my eyes from Boo, that I might pay for his meal, and when I looked back, he had vanished! I cried out for him, looked everywhere I could, but I couldn’t see the tiniest hint of his fuzzy self anywhere!”

For a moment, Vier found herself caught between wanting Minsc to cut to the chase and wanting to listen patiently, deeply curious as to how all of that led to all of this. Her curiosity won out in the end.

“I nearly tore the marketplace apart in my search,” he continued, “but then, I heard it! The cry of a hamster in deep distress! I followed the noise, and came upon this hole in the wall here - and trapped deep inside was Boo! I wondered if perhaps he had developed a nut-induced teleportation ability, but Boo was quick to explain what had happened. As I was paying for the nuts, a young child in the market had mistaken Boo for an escaped pet of hers, and snatched him away! She’d made it quite some distance before realizing he was not, in fact, her beloved Tummytuft, and released him promptly on the other side of this wall.”

“Boo took to his tiny feet as quickly as he could, doing his best to return to me, but he made a fatal mistake. He was feeling far too sluggish to run around the wall, so attempted to take a shortcut through this hole here. But he had gorged himself on far too many nuts, and had grown too bloated to make it through. Thus, when Minsc came upon him, there was only one thing to do! I simply had to reach right in and get him out! But, it seems, my fingers are far too large, and became stuck between Boo’s girth and the stone as surely as if he was covered in sticky glue! And thus, here we are.”

There was hardly a second of silence between them before Astarion could no longer hold back his laughter. “What a wonderfully convoluted predicament,” he snorted. “You’ve been stuck with your fingers in this hole for an entire day?! Absolutely incredible!”

Vier, at least, made the attempt to be nice about it. “I assume you called out for help. Did no one answer?”

Minsc replied, “I most certainly did! And most saw fit to pass me by, notably averting their gazes. The one or two brave souls who did lend a hand, however, had little success in freeing us. In fact, as time has gone on, it seems to have become even harder to make any sort of progress. My fingers may have begun to swell in there, I fear.”

“Oh dear, alright,” Vier sighed, and she swung her supply bag off of back, setting it on the ground and rifling through to produce a brown bottle. “Fortunately, I tend to keep a bit of grease on hand for just such an occasion. Should be able to get you out with just a bit of finesse.” She dipped a small wooden applicator into the grease as she approached the stone wall. “Pardon me, Mr. Boo,” she attempted to speak into small gap between Minsc’s fingers. “You may wish to hold your breath a moment. Don’t want you swallowing any of this. Won’t kill you, but it won’t be pleasant.”

After about half an hour of wiggling, liberal applications of grease, and plenty of moral support from Astarion (read: laughter), Minsc and Boo were finally freed from their stony prison. Boo looked like he’d been through the first layer of the hells, his fur matted with finger sweat and grease, a look of pure frazzlement on his furry little face - or at least as much of one as a hamster could show. He’d be headed straight to a warm bath as soon as they got back to the Elfsong, and Minsc would be getting a healthy dose of ice against his fingers to get the swelling down.

As they tromped their way back to the inn, Vier breathed a sigh of relief. Sure, she’d been right about Minsc being in trouble, but in light of everything they’d faced up until now…well, this was just the low-stakes sort of adventure they needed.

[rooksgambits]

@wayan9an (cahaya) — starter call / accepting!

        “i'm holding this world together with a bootstring.”

[dnangelic]

would daisuke or dark KILL IT with karaoke?

@paraleech

short answer pretty much yes

long answer it depends

dark already sings to daisuke on occasion at night to help him relax or fall asleep. karaoke would be nothing to him since he's a natural performer and proud of his voice. onosaka as my preferred va for him also has a very nice singing voice, (if not just a very nice voice in general) even if his discography repertoire doesn't have a ton - here's him singing the bleach ED, travelog, or some france songs (which he said himself he had a lot of fun with lmfao) for example.

i don't have a set vc for daisuke but i will admit i do lean more towards soichiro hoshi between his canonical choices, which is funny because as good and iconic of a va hoshi is, he can't sing for shit. seriously. i'm sorry. it's the truth. almost completely tone deaf 'cause of those crazy vocal cracks and warbles, poor guy. dai's other va, miyu irino, can sing pretty well though - here's his under the sea and brand new world, but i never really hear my or the manga's daisuke in any of his vocal portrayal, if that makes sense. the closest i've ever felt 'oh, that's how daisuke'd sing!' is with sena kiryuin's covers. (like this for example!)

either way rl seiyuu aside, in any kind of ic performance setting dai specifically is going to be a) probably wracked with anxiety at first then b) ricochet into giving his 200% (like during freedert arc) so things might start off a little shaky for him, but he'll ease into something stable if he's allowed enough time. this also applies when/if he's in dark's form and likewise stuck with dark's voice- he remembers and can sing just as well as dark cause.... well, duh, they're still the same person, but there are also scenes in the manga where they have to get around things like vocal locks and passcodes, so they've pretty much got complete mastery over anything from mimicry to ventriloquism to karaoke night.

"sound" and one's voice being a metaphor for feelings (and likewise, transmitting or hiding them from another person,) is also a huge theme in dnangel just in general, so it really feels like a disservice to my own muse if i ever said they sucked at singing. even if dai's the one who has to pull up his metaphorical bootstrings a bit more than dark, he'll still do it - he'll stand up and grab a microphone!! he's not a coward!! so the real q for dai n dark here is: who would LISTEN to them kill it at karaoke, huh??

[robocops-a-christ-allegory]

Its so fucked up how the boomers are always telling us we just have to work hard when we all know theres societal factors at play for why things are so screwed up! Its not like its just our fault! Anyway if you actually think being disabled and/or poor prevents you from being a professional concept artist then youre a dumb little cry baby techbro who just needs to work hard and pull yourself up by your bootstr- I mean just pick up a pencil. Its easy! Its your own fault if you cant draw!

[glorioustidalwavedefendor]

(... ) and they (the bommer generation) where never taught how to cope with it (trauma and the state of teh word in general)

...

I assume if I ask them if pulling themslefes up on their bootstrings (like they are telling the generations after them in regards to thier trauma) might be an option for them ... then I am teh asshole ... right?

O.K. ... so I shant ... I am just gonna ask if they have tried to not be frightened and confused ... maybe they should spend less time on the internet or something ...

😈

I mean, we knew, but it's nice to hear so succinctly

[jtpoint]

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[s0fias]

@jewelstole said: i'm holding my world together with a bootstring .

❛ Sounds exhausting. ❜ It is exhausting. To always be on the side of sacrifice. To always have to sleep with one eye open. In her faux fur coat, Sofia nestles, the chill of the city biting into her skin. In the midst of November, Gotham is a cold city, cold in ways that have nothing to do with the bitter weather.

For women like them, they have to bite with their teeth and fight with their claws to survive, to be recognized as something greater than bait.

Sofia leans forward, towards Selina. For all her insincere smiles, she means the one she wears now. ❛ Why do all that when you could just make the world yours instead? ❜

[viridanira]

i'm holding my world together with a bootstring .

UNREAL UNEARTH › accepting .

THE FUTURE IS CALLED PERHAPS , WHICH IS THE ONLY POSSIBLE THING TO CALL THE FUTURE . and not many people get to find this little thrown together bar and inn that thoth cradles like a lifeline. but nate gets to find it , as if that's saying he's unaware of how much trust means to the little mercenary organization. or how much it means to kristen.

it used to be the hilton boston park plaza , now it's now it's unnamed and the only place kristen dare call a home.

most of this place has caved in and you really have to traverse through a rubble maze to get to the little ... garden of eden the mercenaries have going on. the only standig remnants and it was the lounge and bar. they constructed rooms and offices to work out of themselves. kristen. mccabe. kale. and couple more people like nate they decided to trust.

and kristen actually isn't usually the 'glass half full' type of person , she's rather bitter sometimes but bright green eyes peer upwards from the plate of food she was lovingly nursing. THEY LOOK HIM DIRECTLY IN HIS OWN SET OF EYES .

... she smiles. an amused curl to the corner of her lips.

[jobs-in-south-africa]

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[catboybiologist]

So you're saying you want to pull yourself up by your own bootstr- *passes out imagining someone sensually sliding their hands across ankle and foot to get to the bootstrap*

Lol I was just browsing r/curatedtumblr and found a post with me in it :3

Now everyone thinks i have a feet fetish :///

lmao I self posted that Enjoy the exposure of your dark and twisted mind to the world, ya dirty animal

[gablr]

Our Recent work. "We strive to create visually appealing sites that feature user-friendly design and clear navigation". Our website: https://gablr.com/