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already missing you
inktober day16!
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MY HUSBAND IS MISSING
PLEASE IF YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT WHERE MY HUSBAND IS SHARE IT WITH ME OR THE MASON OHIO PD
PLEASE SHARE THIS POST TO HELP FIND MY HUSBAND
Dillon Alexander Williams went to Kings Island with me and my mother Melanie Dean but is now nowhere to be found. Last time I saw him was at the Build a Bear in Kings Island and he seemed completely fine. After hours of security searching they discovered my husband was no longer in the park and hadn’t been since 11 am. He was seen on camera walking out of the park, through the Soak City parking lot and out towards the Sunoco on the other side of the street.
He was last seen wearing black jeans, pink converse, a red and black Deadpool letterman jacket and a Marie the cat beanie like in the pictures I’ve provided.
I’ve been asking around and no one has seen him. This is legitimately the most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced in my life, please, if you have ANY info call the Mason PD or send me a PM on here. I just want my husband home.
Desde luego que amo a mi madre, pero no me siento segura con ella. Ese es el problema.
sentí odio, enojo y tristeza al mismo tiempo
Dining Room Enclosed
Enclosed dining room - mid-sized traditional medium tone wood floor enclosed dining room idea with gray walls
avatar 2 was just 2 and a half hours of racism and bad plot devices
I never ever use this account but this took way too long to fucking make
Just a dump of stuff I found...yay for random bouts of drawing! The cat is Harley; my pet, my muse.
Unfinished???????
The monster is a beautiful thing.
Cindy has been practicing the ritual for weeks, months. Murmuring each word under her breath on the brisk November walks to and from work. Laying naked on her bed, sprawled and feline, tracing every dark curving line of its shape etched into the odd book. The book was a gift, leaning on her doorstep one evening— but from whom or for what— she had no idea.
It was a perfect nightmare, a beautiful thing of corded muscle and dark chitinous armor. It’s horns tangled and bent, every bit the artistry of Hell itself. Each pristinely detailed picture had the jaws smiling a broad, wolffish smirk etched by terrible teeth and the hands spread wide were more talons than anything remotely human.
*Pleasure and pain mingle like tangled lovers*, the words said, ringed by arcane symbols. And Cindy, special girl she was— *craved* pain. Fantastical, enduring pain.
Cindy lit matches and clutched them, or doused her own cigarettes on her arms.
Cindy dribbled candle wax down her own pale, ivory skin.
Cindy found chemicals and cleaners, liquids that dangled just on the edge of poison, and doused her more sensitive regions in it, writhing at every sparking sensation.
So when she laid eyes on the monster, when she read it’s promise of liberating agony, and her eyes scoured over every thorn curve of it: how could she deny it?
It came to her, one night, when she spoke the words in the dark and everything bristled with unholy redness.
The monster had come. It loomed tall and hateful and dripping with insatiable hunger. It’s horns dragged at the ceiling like fingernails on chalkboard, it’s thorns glared like dozens of hateful eyes with their own little fervent fires. It’s maw blazed with the signature grin and Cindy could smell the inferno within, that burgeoning furnace she lusted to fill her.
It crushed her beneath a sprawling claw and it’s skin bristled with heat, stealing the voice and the words from her throat. It’s wordless, inhuman desires override her brain and turn Cindy into something pathetic, and tiny. A toy that bent to a greater will. The claws mark skin, sign gouging crimson marks into flesh. The monster presses her to the floor beneath its grip,
I think there is anything else to say. The image shows everything.
