#feuerdove

[maxiimoffwitch-blog]

Starter: feuerdove

feuerdove liked your post:i really want to rp with more people maybe like...

Wanda watched the shorter girl land and immediately strode over to her. “Teach me to do that.” she skipped all introductions.

[heavychoicearchive-blog]

feuerdove.

"i think some people are just made to grow up and die alone and i’m definitely one of those people.”

[inintervalsarchive-blog]

feuerdove replied to your post:there’s also the fact that my step-dad’s parents...

what vaca house doesn’t have internet tho.

the kind that is designed specifically to make me miserable 

[thealwaysforgotten]

❦   ;   feuerdove .

it’s taken longer than he had planned.

he still isn’t sure if she’s well enough, & it’s not as if the dead who roam the downstairs area are evacuating at all. they could maybe sneak out the window, but.. there are bound to be more down there, it’s a big fall, & she’s in no condition. he just thought they’d buzz off by now. he thought she’d be better. 

“ i should find out how many are down there, ”

[whiskeyesx-blog]

feuerdove replied to your post: i got anxiety today for the first time in months…...

pets you.

appreciates pet

anklebitxrs replied to your post: i got anxiety today for the first time in months…...

i hope you feel better friend

thanx fam i do too. changed my alarm to I Don’t Fuck With You so maybe it’ll make my days better

[weightofwararchive]

feuerdove replied to your post: Ended up taking a three hour nap bc fu...

story of my life?? like i always say a little nap and it turns into a mini coma.

I know exactly how you feel. That’s why I hate taking naps lmao

[boundxbyxbelligerence]

feuerdove

  He's swallowed in the solitude of naked streets, abandoned   in their eerie destruction, ghosts now marking their residence   in whatever building hasn't yet crumbed to its remains; moves   inbetween ditches - only illuminated by the plain streak of   light the moon offers dimly - as if his steps have been walked   once before. Wherever he goes, his limbs are shaking, the   clothing on his shoulder his fingers are digging into ragged to   the bare sight of contrasting pale skin, amidst a palette of   every possible red tone; a clear burn, still aching to his bones.   Finally, the boy sinks to his feet, leans his head and inhales,   your frame a trait not fitting into the scene. He doesn't turn,   gazes into piceous clouds, smirks nonetheless and speaks, a   row of white teeth as easily shown as his words pronounced.   "Y’a’ways starin’ a’ people in th’ middle ‘a th’ night, angel?"