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Ignoring the numbness, stunning her brain.
Forgetting the bloodshed, spilling like rain.
Madness a cancer.
Sadness a plague.
Nightmares and voices come to drive them insane.
͚̬̦͊ͨ͐ͥ͒̿ͭ̏D̜̥̹ͬͪͫ͗ͣ̌̎̏ị̟̦̻̳̄̆̑͋́ͫ̌d̦͖͙͎̮̍̍͆̇̃ ̹͍̻͙̙͙ͯ̽̎͌͌͂ͤ͂y̬̟̻̼̣ͯ̄͒ŏ̞̦̥̯̲̪̼͎̅́͛̚u̗̣̾ ̘͚͍̮̘̉̒ͅr̰̬͇̙̻̖̠̓̍ȅ͓̱̼͙͖̝̪̲̚ͅả͈̙͉̻̀̅̈́̀ͅl̠͙̫̳̾͌ͯ̑ͥ̉l͇̹͚̘͛̆͌̊ÿ͖̫̲̬͙̹̭͚́ͦ ̖̖̺͕̪͓̈̇͗t͔̮̩͉ͬͮ̄̋̇̅h̙̣̍͊͂̽͋i̪͔̞̲͕̐ͣͩͩ̽n͈͕̱̔k̮͚͎͐̽͂̃ͪ
Ḭ̟͔̹̓̓͐̑̄ͪͫt͕͓ͭ̽̉̇ ͈̪̞̤̲̠͋͐̇w͍̞͍̑ͥͧ͒̉͑a̠̜̜̩̤̞̯̖̿̿͌̍s̘̼͆͋ͩͬ̚ ͚̺̞̘̜͎̃̃̒̾́̚o̪͙͊̔̆ͬͩ͊̂͂́v̤̞̱̪̏͊ė̜̰̝̤̑̒ͩ̍͆͂r̺̐̈͋̓͋ͤ͌̓?̺̮͙̼͎̲̓̏̾̓̅ͩ͂ͩ
Sans and Frisk lived a thousand anguished lifetimes before they'd even hit puberty and finally found the peace and happiness they had long fought for...
But history forgotten, is history doomed to repeat.
How far would you go, to protect the ones you love?
- Part 1 of Wartale
Jack has been having strange dreams. Now they seem to be leaking over to the waking world...
He's yours. Your brother. Your lover. And so much more. The road is long. On your way, you'll encounter many people, you'll find pain and feel love. You'll get lost and found again. But nobody knows what lays at the end of your journey. Maybe death, maybe salvation.
A storm is brewing and the ocean is churning.
Strange things are occurring in the sleepy Irish town which Lance McClain now calls home. Orphaned by a horrific house fire and with nowhere else to go, Lance's distant uncle, Coran, takes him under his wing. Now if only he could figure out why his cousin hates him, why strange things happen around him and why the raven-haired boy with the short fuse has a knack for staring at him.
Bookmarks which have used it as a tag:
The young man is standing with an arm casually thrown up to lean against the door frame, displaying his bare torso to advantage, his powerful swimmer's shoulders and lean body pale with moonlight. His cocky grin, however, is fading quickly into a look of shock and confusion. Other than a pelt shaped into a sloppy kilt, his legs are bare too, despite the chill winds coming in off the ocean.
"You're not a girl," he says in a gently lilting accent that's like an odd blend of all the coastal voices Derek's ever heard, squinting at Derek like his eyes might somehow be deceiving him.
Unlikely, given his dark beard and broad, well-muscled shoulders, let alone what he's got under his kilt.
Bookmarked by Aami
12 Nov 2016