#{ suffering... }

[hoosbandewan]

Ewan Mitchell vs. 🌶️

[softwound]

there goes our pp

[kinnporsche]

MILE PHAKPHUM & APO NATTAWIN as Kinn and Porsche in KinnPorsche: The Hidden Messages (2021)

[siren-mic]

I'm writing and I have to use this one specific word and all the readers will be like "YOU'RE BRITISH" and I'm like "I KNOW, I'M SORRY"

[gynandromorph]

what does one get out of looking at my art that’s like 4 years old :/

[cardinxl-blog]

"Say?" Aion really has nothing to say, falling back to his fully mute tendencies after the incident that had taken away the band's energetic vocalist. His persona had crashed and burned badly, and even if he still saw himself a god, the lion doesn't think of himself a proper one. A no good, useless one instead, stripped of his most precious worshiper, unable to protect him. Cradling a bouquet of roses, the lion slumps by Crow's grave, his stone not corrupt, but definitely dulled beyond repair.

     A slight breeze found itself to the other, blowing his mane in a way that almost felt reminiscent of fingers. A few of the roses’ petals floated off of their stems, simply following where the breeze was taking them.

     If he was paying close enough attention over his own thoughts, the lion would probably feel as though someone were there with him, though it was obvious that it wasn’t someone living. But along with that presence, the wind seemed to twist into some form of melody; a voiceless, but comforting tune.