by 米米
h
Today's Document
noise dept.
cherry valley forever
YOU ARE THE REASON
🪼

Janaina Medeiros

Kaledo Art
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

if i look back, i am lost
Jules of Nature
Xuebing Du

oozey mess
$LAYYYTER
Cosmic Funnies
art blog(derogatory)

blake kathryn

No title available

ellievsbear

shark vs the universe

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Australia
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seen from Canada

seen from France

seen from Singapore
seen from United States
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seen from United Kingdom

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seen from Malaysia
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seen from Malaysia
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@concelo
by 米米
♕ poor you!
She listens carefully to his words, taking note of the hurt in his voice as he speaks of the pain that continued to haunt him since childhood. She had no idea of the trauma he’d gone though—she couldn't even begin to imagine the feelings and emotions he felt during his younger years. Still, she listened carefully, a twinge of heartache hits her as Gerome keeps talking; switching from one topic to the next.
❝Oh, Gerome…❞ Cherche whispers under her breath, wincing at the imagery of a younger boy so desperately clinging onto the hope of his mother’s return. ❝I am so sorry.❞ Though she figures her words probably don’t mean much to the other, sincerity is laced throughout her sentences and her eyes are filled with sorrow.
❝While it is a knight’s duty to insure the safety of others… No child deserves to be left alone by their mother like that… And certainly not you.❞ A small sigh escapes her lips, feelings of frustration over herself from her son’s period quickly builds up inside her. Though, she isn't necessarily angry at his real mother for not sticking by his side all this time—after all, she had her own duties to fulfill and by what he has told her, she had done a fine job of accomplishing her task to protect others. She just wishes she could’ve given the best for Gerome, because that’s what he deserves.
❝You may call me an impostor, dislike me, refuse me all you want, but that does not change the fact that you are my son.❞ Despite his ill thoughts of her, Cherche refuses to give up on him so easily; she cares for Gerome far too much to just let him go like that. She may not be his real mother, nor is she able to give him back the fond memories of childhood that were so abruptly taken from him, but she’ll make sure to ease his troubled heart as much as she can. ❝I am not the mother you know, nor am I even the mother you want… But I’m here for you and I swear to help you through your struggles. You don’t have to carry such a heavy burden by yourself.❞
With a her gentle hands, she brings the male’s head back up from hiding, gingerly removing the mask which concealed his tear-stained eyes from her. ❝She must have left to help pave a better future for you, helping those villagers and ridding the world of Risen—it was all to make the world a suitable place for her child… She loved you— I love you, Gerome.❞ She reaches out a single hand to cup his cheek, brushing across the bottom of his eye to wipe the tears from it as she keeps the veil tight in her other grip. ❝This mask in my hand was made to hide so much, but no longer. I shall protect you and accomplish what your world’s Cherche failed to do. Even if you don’t accept me, I’ve already acknowledged you as my son, whether you come from that world or the next. I’ll never leave you again, so there’s no need to cry anymore.❞
"I did all of those things, deeming you an imposter, refusing to accept you... not because I dislike you." Teeth bite over his lower lip, trying to keep his tone level for a little longer, recalling emotions that he had abandoned for over a decade.
"It is because I loved you— the other you— too much. And when I see you now, it reminds me of her, and the memories that we shared that died with her. Your face, your presence... It taunts me, reminding me that she will never come back. I can tell you about the day that she took me flying for the first time..." He smiles, ruefully, as warm memories flit before his eyes. "I can tell you how terrified I was, clinging to her as if death were upon me, in my younger childhood. I can tell you all of these things, but that is all they would be to you— stories that you assume to be true."
His next words fall harshly, as he cuts straight to the point, critical and unforgiving, diverging from his brief, fond tone. "The love that she showed me... You can do your best to emulate it, but that is all. It falls short. Even the way you smile at me, it feels flat. Artificial. Unreal. As if you're trying to compensate for the mother that you never were, yet."
"But, as I look at you..." He blinks a teardrop away, feeling it course down his cheek and run onto the edges of his mask. "I do not deny the happiness that I also feel. I have finished grieving over my mother years ago, but seeing her— you, I suppose— well and alive... triggers memories that I had left to rest with her death."
The removal of his mask elicits a small gasp of surprise from him, and he instantly lifts a hand, to rub away the worst of his tears, stifling an unsightly sob against the back of his hand. Crimson eyes instantly squint into slits, adjusting to the harshness of the light against his usually shaded vision, but as he blinks several times, they soon adjust to the lighting of the apartment room. "My world, a suitable place..." He tries to laugh at the very thought; it comes out bitterly, but as she holds his face, he glances down, failing to meet her eyes. "Had it been, I would not be here. At my age, I nearly thought her invincible. I did not think... that death could claim her."
Her fingers, gently brushing tears from his cheek, cause him to recoil from her touch, as if it had stung him, and wide eyes regard her incredulously. The foreign feeling of his mother's hand on his face was one that he had not felt in years, and in the instant that he backs away, a wave of guilt washes over him, for doing so. "Ah, I..." His gaze traces lines along the floor as he looks away, murmuring a small apology before slowly reaching to hold her hand in his, raising it back up to rest on his cheek. "I'm sorry. It's just... it's been so long since you last did that."
His sigh comes out shakily, and he allows his eyes to shut, taking in the finale of her reassuring words, words that he'd been yearning to hear for longer than he cares to remember. He blinks away a few more tears, but this time, out of gratefulness, not sorrow, and when he opens his eyes once more, he smiles, his gaze comfortably resting on his mother's content face, basking in the happiness that it provided him. "That is a lie, and you know it. 'Forever' does not exist, like your presence in my life. But, if you could swear, this time, that you will stay in my life— my life and my future life— for longer than you had in the past... That promise would mean just as much to me."
"Thank you... for vowing to protect me, to be with me, this time. Though my past— your future— cannot be altered in my timeline, you still have yet to meet your version of me. And if you could give him a life where his parents were with him always..." He bows his head, to hide his smile, wiping away streaks from the corners of his eyes. "I would appreciate it, just the same."
"And... mother?" In that moment, if he tries, he can see, in the corner of his mind, a decade ago: a particular day at camp where she had crouched down in front of him, hugging her knees to her chest as she peered adoringly at his face. He had been hugging one of her spare capes tightly against his chest, then, as if hugging it tighter compensated for him not being able to rest in her embrace. (But he would when she came back to camp later that day, he had told himself.) He had murmured these words then, shyly— as he was when he was younger. The phrase is strange, and it feels out of place on his tongue, almost like a foreign language.
Because they were the last words he had said to her, before she disappeared forever.
"I..." He struggles, stopping and starting many times, before he finally manages to return her sentiment.
"I love you, too."
"But if you ever leave this city and somehow obtain my younger self later on... Please wait a bit longer, before taking me flying on Minerva." He laughs quietly, but there is a certain, resolved joy to his laughter, that hadn't been there before. "I do not believe human children are meant to be airborne at the age of two weeks."
happy valentine's day } inigo.
Such was the day to be spent in the company of a loved one, but such were days that he despised— and he usually spent it in solitude, trying his hardest to avoid the sappy, lovey couples on this particular holiday. Earlier this afternoon, a text had arrived from probably last person on this entire planet that he'd want to see on this day.
Inigo: hi gerome! could you meet me at the flower shop for something? i know this isn't your sort of day, but... everyone else is busy! and i know you never do anything today anyway, so i don't see why not!! :)
At Inigo's implications, an eyeroll (and a few murmured frustrations) is visible to the furniture of his residence, as he taps twice, typing a curt response.
Gerome: K.
With a reluctant sigh, he picks up his mask, allowing it to settle into place upon his visage, before he heads out. It doesn't take him long to find the shop that Inigo had mentioned (through the steady stream of people exiting and entering the store), though upon seeing the mercenary absent from the vicinity, he waits several paces outside the door. And when Inigo finally appears, excitedly waving a hand in his direction, he cannot help but to ponder what Inigo could have possibly called him for.
He awaits for the boy to stop in front of him, before inquiring, condescendingly, "Did you truly require my assistance in finding the prettiest bouquet for the latest maiden that has captured your heart?"
Uncertain of whether to leave the cookies or not, she does so anyway.
"I hope these cookies are to your liking! I hope you have a fair evening and... A h-happier Valentines day." She mumbles lightly but still manages to get the point across. Meanwhile handing the small bag of dragon cookies to the other.
He accepts the bag of frosted cookies, peering curiously at the green coloration. Whereas such a gift would have better fitted Nah, he did not expect for Noire, out of all people, to greet him on this particular day. "I don't have anything for you in return, I apologize..," he murmurs, apologetically.
Nonetheless, a tiny smile, out of place for one of a serious countenance as his, forms on his expression, clearly pleased with her gift. "Thank you, Noire. I'm sure they'll be just fine— especially if they're from you."
apocryphalbrand replied to your post:
ME AND INIGO STARTED A CHAIn of mask wearers
YOU TWO ARE GROUNDED..........
eyebrand replied to your post:
"you all look like nerds" LOOK WHO’S TALKING
WELL, LUCINA........ WHAT NERD WORE THIS MASK RIGHT HERE
wHY ON EARTH ARE THE FEA CHILDREN WEARING MY MASK
By hayu
♕ poor you!
His offer to take her shopping startles her a bit, however she doesn’t show her surprise. Cherche never expected him to make such a proposal, though she isn’t complaining one bit as she nods lightly to his statements and follows his steps. Walking together, she respects his silent wishes of not conversing between the two until they reach her apartment.
The building itself is rather large, hopefully to accommodate to the needs of its residents, though she has nothing much to say about its appearance until entering the superstructure. As Minerva trots along beside her, Cherche peers around the area and examines the interior; it’s no palace, but the living conditions seem to beat the barracks only slightly (as far as she can tell).
As they bring themselves to a halt in front of a door she presumes is her housing, Cherche fumbles around to find the key she received from those strange people and unlocks the lock to open the door and holds it open to allow Gerome to enter first before following suit.
❝Well, we’re here now. You bothered to take me all the way here, so why not make yourself at home?❞ She points to the couch in the middle of the room, motioning for him to sit and relax in the comfort of her new home. Without waiting for a response, she heads towards the piece of furniture without hesitation, sitting on the far right hand end of it, crossing her legs in a refined manner. ❝My apologies, if this were an environment I was familiar with, I’d have brought something for us to drink!❞ Her smile is soft as she folds her hands on her lap.
❝I was thinking we could have our talk here.❞ The statement is spoken in a soft tone as she looks down towards the floor rather than at Gerome himself. Her assumption (or rather, hope) was that, from how their conversation ended earlier, they’d continue it in the privacy of her home. ❝Because you said our conversation wasn’t one meant for public ears, I supposed you wouldn't mind speaking here. However, if I’m wrong, feel free to exit as you please.❞
He sits on the other side of the couch, with his back straight, his arms still as crossed as they were before. The expression upon his face is unreadable, hidden in visibility by the mask resting on his visage, though turbulent thoughts rest underneath.
At her bright apology, he gently shakes his head, murmuring soft, but curt, words in return. "It's fine." The last thing he'd want her doing now is serving him; even in his time, Cherche had always been one to consider the well-being of others before her own health. A 'hero' was what the villagers called her; an overworking, non-present mother was what he thought of it. That was why she had gone from village to village during his youth, helping them ward off Risen instead of spending time with him, that was why—
...she had left him.
"I would not want to leave now, out of all times." His tone is scornful, as a weary sigh leaves him. He contemplates; his voice carries a different sound, a more reflective one. "Many a fortnight have I spent wondering what I could have done differently. Could I, at my young age, have broken character and begged you not to leave camp that day? Could I have done something to keep you occupied, instead of allowing you to leave, never to return?"
"There is no doubt that my mother was a great person. Like you, she was kind. Her warmth touched many, and inspired many more. I would say that the townspeople understood her kindness more than I did, for we did not spend much time together." His hand curls into a fist, as he tries to keep his composure together, despite how he feels it slipping apart by the second. The more of his mother he recalls, the more he struggles, but he continues.
"The woman who sits before me is an imposter." He comments, scathingly, gritting his teeth. While he understands that his anger is misguided, he can't help releasing years of pent-up grief. "You bear her image, but you cannot provide me with the answers that I desire. But... you would know yourself better than anyone else."
He leans over to rest his elbows on his knees, hands shifting upwards to bear the weight of his mask, slick with his sorrow, but leaving his features hidden between his fingers, for he wishes not to show her such a disgraceful face.
"Why did she leave me? Why was she never around? Did she... not...
...love me enough to want to stay with me?"
not only has fe13 gifted us with character customization in 5000 different hair colors but they have also given us, in a lesser way, customizable children, this is it, the future is here, we have been given so much Power my friends, we are so Free
♕ poor you!
She nods, understanding that she is unable to to properly fill the void his real mother left in his heart. Still, if possible, she would love to be in his life because after all, he is still technically her son, just from a different time. ❝Of course I refer to you as an acquaintance. However, I’d much prefer to consider you more than just that.❞ And so she leaves it at that, hoping to be able to expand further on her thoughts and wishes at a later time.
❝You’re as charming as ever…❞ Her words slowly falter as she finishes her sentence, admiring the way Gerome smiles (even if it’s just a slight tug against his lips) as he interacts with Minerva. Even if he’s not someone this smaller wyvern is familiar with, she seems happy enough to receive this gentle attention, and likewise for her son who also appears to enjoy this show of affection. ❝It’s good luck I ran into you today. I was, in fact, searching for a way to my new home but I had gotten far too distracted by all these adorable crafts and whatnot that they had strewn about.❞ She begins as she gently sets down the creature once Gerome retracts his arm back to his side. ❝In any case, I was placed into an area by the name of L-3, I believe.❞
Cherche’s smile fades for only a slight moment, feeling a slight nervousness when he alludes to continuing the conversation they were having earlier. Of course, she wouldn't mind that at all-it’s even something she was hoping would come by eventually-but she’s just not sure what the outcome would be after their talk. Even so, her smile returns and possibly even bigger than ever as she nods to him and motions for him to lead the way. ❝After you. ❞
His face lights up in remembrance, if only for a moment— his mother had always been fond of the oddest things, from exquisite handcrafts to the slimiest of bugs. (The latter of which, at age 5, would send him cowering behind the nearest tent flap in terror, wondering how on earth his mother could possibly find such gross creatures 'cute'.) Even in the future, she always had the tendency to overdistract herself with peculiarities that seldom struck the fancy of others. He hides a grin; some things really did never change, even through the passage of time.
"I see... Perhaps, one day, if things turn out well... I shall take you to peruse these stores. But that is a suggestion, and nothing more. Do not make anything more out of it." Though his words are tentative, and he ends his sentence gruffly, the idea of visiting these shops with her, and seeing her happy... it would mean more to him, than anything in the world.
Upon hearing her area of residence, however, he blinks in surprise, at her close proximity. "Interesting... I have been assigned to Z-3; therefore, accompanying you would be no extra effort, on my part." He steps forward, his dark cape swishing behind him, turning back once to see if she would follow, before he proceeds along the sidewalk, with Minerva keeping up behind the both of them. He makes several turns here and there, though he makes no attempt to rekindle additional conversation, until he reaches the general apartment housing of Sector 3. His quick gait comes to a halt, if only to deliberate, as he taps a finger thoughtfully against his chin. The apartments were arranged alphabetically, so if he was at that end, then she had to be...
A few steps more are all it takes before they stand before a door; 'L-3' is engraved to the right of it. Here, he stops and turns towards her, inquiring for her mode of entrance. "I assume that they have given you a key?"
♕ poor you!
❝Even though those events happened just as you say, I’m here now, aren’t I?❞ Her expression remains static and her tone never falters even under his bitter words and cold remarks. She does, indeed, feel sorry for all that has happened to the poor boy in his future and for how she is not truly his mother, in a sense. Still, there isn’t much she can really do for Gerome just yet, especially with how little they’ve spoken; sometimes it feels as though they’re strangers. ❝Do you not like this smile?❞ She replies back with an inquiry of her own, taking note of his discomfort and all the small quirks that become apparent as he roughly speaks against her.
❝There’s nothing wrong with this time, or so I believe. In fact, I think it’s a wonderful time to smile… After all, I’m able to have a nice conversation with you.❞
Cherche lets out an amused chuckle, hoping to ease the dreary air around Gerome even just a bit. Normally, this would be a time where she assumes all somberness, but this just wasn’t the right place in order to have such a conversation. The middle of a sidewalk near some vendors just simply isn't the time for such things anyway, she’d rather not have any bystanders poking their noses in where they don’t belong.
❝You’re much more talkative than you seem. It’s rather pleasant.❞ Even if the words spoken aren't entirely so. ❝But, in any case, you must be well acquainted with this “urban city”. If you would be so kind, could show me around? If that displeases you, you can use that as a chance to grow used to my Minerva.❞ She brushes a few strands of hair behind her ears before reaching down to pick up her sized-down wyvern like a small child. ❝You said earlier that she comes from a time where she doesn't know you, right? I’m sure she’d grow accustomed to you quickly.❞
"No, you misunderstand my words." Quick to correct her, he grimaces, gritting his teeth together; he recalls, fondly, bitterly, the Cherche from his time. "I loved my mother's smile — she was everything, to me. Whenever she smiled at me, my entire world felt right. Her smile, her love for me... They were warmer than the brightest sun." He pauses a little, afterwards, and the mask obscuring his eyes from view hide the unspoken memories that still linger in his mind.
"But, you are not my mother." He speaks firmly, resolutely, and there is no compassion upon his hidden expression, though he strains vehemently to keep his voice level. "The way you look at me... no matter who I was to the future you, you currently regard me as an acquaintance, and similarly, I consider you nothing more." Alas, what was the point of progressing into further detail? He could talk all he wanted, but she was someone else. There were no memories of his childhood that she would magically dredge up, because they did not exist within her to begin with.
"Common decency would have it that I have no qualms in showing you around; I do not need to fabricate an excuse to assist a comrade in need." A faint grin, scarcely detectable, plays upon his lips as he reaches to scratch the smaller wyvern behind the neck (and how radiantly content his mother looks, holding the creature in her arms), though the smile soon vanishes as he notices its presence on his face. He drops his hand, rests it back by his side, and glances back once, to make sure his wyvern was still resting where he had left her, before turning back to Cherche. "Where do you reside? I shall escort you there, if you will condone it. Our conversation is not fit for the public to overhear."
Of course, if Cherche were to let him, he would walk beside her. Minerva could trod along behind him.
♕ poor you!
She was unable to get a good look at the other’s face with how preoccupied she had been with Minerva at the time, though now diverting her attention elsewhere, Cherche’s cheerful demeanor drops in surprise upon the familiar appearance and voice of her own son. It’s not as though she despises his presence near her, she loved him with all her heart, but even then she feels as though that’s not enough. Still, the rider’s smile returns just as quickly as it left, glad to be able to see her dear child once again.
❝Gerome…❞
❝… It’s good to see you again.❞ She dismisses Gerome’s cold speech, already used to his brooding nature from the passing comments he had made from time to time despite how annoying and saddening it could be for her. ❝It’s just as you say; I have been faring well, thank you.❞ They've rarely had the chance to properly speak to each other so calmly outside of the battlefield; it always seems like the other just wanted to avoid her for the most part, which confused her greatly with how he still managed to travel to her time.
But, perhaps she’s been reading him incorrectly, he could have merely just wished to keep a distant relationship and only came back in order to help the future children of that world.
❝You also appear to be well, and Minerva, also.❞ Cherche’s gaze turns to the wyvern in Gerome’s possession, nodding at her old partner and returning her attention to her son. ❝I am rather pleased to see you've been taking care of each other, even in your time here. I suspect you've been a resident of this nation for far longer than I, correct?❞
To look upon his mother's face again, he remembers everything that he loved about her— the way she beamed at him, how her smile could fix any problem, as it did when he was a child. It tugs at his heartstrings, and it makes him want to run up to her and rest in her comfortable embrace; but he could do no such thing now, when he had grown far beyond the child that he had been, and the decade of existence he had spent without her was the only one that he wanted to know.
"Your assumptions would be correct— I have been here for beyond a month. Though, this premise is not exactly a 'nation', per se... It is more of a large, urban city." He taps a finger against his other arm, thoughtfully. Yes... that was probably right... It was called Hive City, after all. Ridding himself of further thought, he clears his throat. "She, and your ring, as you know... they were all I had left of you back then— and they were all I had left of you here."
A soft sigh, and then he mutters something quietly, to the side, averting his eyes. "At least she was there for me, when you weren't."
His voice wavers in tone, and he swallows the lump rising in his throat; but, as callously as his words are uttered, speaking to her in such a rude manner still guilts him, and his gaze hesitantly flickers back up, examining her still-cheerful features, before glancing back down.
"...Must you always smile like that?" His question is more of a whispered hiss now, as he turns his face away, folding his arms across his chest. He draws a breath; it is more audible than he'd thought it would be. "Even in a time like this?"
♕ poor you!
Dear oh dear, what an odd little predicament the young wyvern rider has found herself in! This must be the first time in quit a while she’s felt rather lost, and that just won’t do at all. Somehow, she’s stranded in a peculiar area with no idea how, and had just encountered these “Scientist” fellows; at least they gave her a place to stay and the ability to keep Minerva! Though, after that encounter, Cherche is sadly thrown out into the streets with an insufficient amount of information to go off of. Not knowing where her home lies, she somehow ends up in the midst of sector 4.
Everything about this city-especially at first glance-simply amazed her from the new objects and materials just strewn about to the large, modern buildings that surrounded her very being. Still, even as curiosity and bewilderment built up inside her about such a mysterious setting, her concern for Minerva grew twice as much.
She took note, earlier, of the other’s difficulty adjusting to the new crowded sidewalks and the bustling streets along with the advancements. Not only this, but it appears as though said wyvern is wary of the presence of another, perhaps an attacker? The two have heard the news of some murderer walking free, mostly in what she believes is sector 1, but maybe the criminal wandered off into this place?
With this thought kept in her mind, she continues on her merry way, heavily on guard, glancing at the odd displays and signs of festivities she’s never encountered before with mere awe. One could say she was rather enjoying herself, that is, until a shriek is heard from another in the streets as Minerva lets out a bellowing cry and snaps at the one who screamed. Immediately, Cherche begins to calm her friend down after hitting her with her wooden axe to stop disturbing others.
❝My most sincere apologies.❞ Her tone is light as she speaks to the poor victim with her typical smile on her face.
❝You’ll have to excuse my Minerva, she must have mistaken you for a suspicious person!❞
Thankfully, his wyvern had been granted an increase in size to that of a small car; and though flying was out of the question, he had soon discovered afterwards that she was just as efficient of a runner. He was no horseback soldier, but the limited mode of transportation would just have to suffice. Today, he traverses through the city streets — riding through with a large wyvern certainly eases traffic congestion, mostly because Minerva's claws left little dents in the cars that were in their way.
A scream is heard nearby; he ignores it. A wyvern's roar is heard even closer, as if it stood several yards away from him, and he jumps, caught a bit off guard. He responds instantly, slackening the reins in his grip and allowing the leather straps to fall flat against her skin. Though his vision is limited, he knows Minerva's call anywhere, and if that call had not come from his own wyvern, then it had come from...
He dismounts, climbing carefully off of her back and landing neatly on his two feet. His footsteps are cautious, but well-placed, as he approaches the other creature, nodding briefly at the woman next to her. Wordlessly, he crouches down, maintaining eye-level with the wyvern, and shows her his hand, before bringing it gently over her head, murmuring soothingly until she calms down. He remarks, softly. "She is from a time where she does not know me, after all."
It is after this that he rises to his feet to properly acknowledge her. Surely, one would expect him to be kinder to his own mother. And it was not as if he did not love her— it was the opposite: he loved her too much, that he wasn't willing to risk remembering how to love her again.
"Mot— No..." He takes his words back, with a shake of his head. "Cherche..."
His tone is frosty and formal, and holds no tones of warmth. "I trust that you have been well."
cupkekie replied to your post:
Y-Yarne wont come join me and become a magical girl.. Um… Would you like to? O-or do you know where Cynthia is I know she would love to become one.
"As tempting as that sounds... I'll have to decline that offer. And Cynthia has been busy as of late.
However, I would recommend visiting Inigo and Owain. I am certain that adding a magical element to their, as Severa would say, 'weird' hobbies would not disappoint them in the least.
Speaking of Severa... You may want to ask her, as well."
CRAWLLinGNNN iN MYYY SKiNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111!
THESE WOUUUUNDS
THEY WILLLLLLLLLL NOOOOOT HEAL………………….
I mean….
Noire…. are you feeling alright……..
Z-3:
Wally
Tiki & Morgan (female)
Gerome
”Gerome, please take careful note that I am not for riding.”
"Do not flatter yourself — I hold no interest in climbing upon the back of a manakete. After all, I am a wyvern rider, not a manakete rider."