#{open??}

[anviled]

"Hey chat, are you tired of your ops catching you lacking? Well look no further, we here at Carmine Industries have got you covered. Our weapons are goated. No cap, your enemies will be shook. So stop taking L’s and secure that dub; slide into our DMs today for weapons that are built different."

[murdxrxfcrxws]

Sleepy lil Baaaas

[that-asshole-jackrabbit]

“Just gotta try and be more comfortable in my skin. It’s rough doing that here in the Circus, but.. maybe a distraction will help. I should take up trapeze. Or maybe juggling.”

[many-heads-of-the-hydra-rp]

His hands are clasped together, in front of the female saint robed in gold and white. His lips move but no words escape them. A private prayer. Even the lowest of the low can pray for salvation, as hope is the last thing one loses.

[phantomcurtaincall]

Julian hums to himself as he fiddles with something at the concession stand. It’s quiet in the Palace except for the cranking of a key in his hands, followed shortly by a sharp and repeated, mechanical clacking.

He places the object on the counter. He clicks his tongue. He’s proud of himself. There’s a mischievous quality to the way holds himself.

He stands to the side to reveal his prize:

The Monkey.

[galeleads]

Ignore her, she's flying a paper airplane around the office.

[virtualunrealitycircus]

Long sip of presumably a mug of digital coffee. "...hm."

"Moon's gone."