Forwarded from Laura
Twink milanese entra in vera friggitoria terrona e rizza la mammina napoletana in perfetto accento fuorigrottese (camerieri stupiti!)
Forwarded from Deranged Posting (Herr Vorragendㅤ)
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i wish this was real
Forwarded from Land of Walls and Kangaroos
The light fades. You tilt your head slightly, trying to catch a subtle sound lurking in the deep silence. Something speaks. The language is not English, nor Khaganian. Is it a question? An answer? – no; imperative mood. Is it a command?
No; commands can be escaped. This statement was dense, inevitable; it had too much gravity. Hours later, when you ponder this moment, you will try to translate what you have heard into English: Stasera sessione? It was something like that, perhaps. The concepts all blur together.
You can tell, even through your eyelids, that the lights outside are coming back on. Dim, much dimmer than before, but new generators are spinning up. Alas, the Great Work continues. You should escape while it's still too dark to identify you.
No; commands can be escaped. This statement was dense, inevitable; it had too much gravity. Hours later, when you ponder this moment, you will try to translate what you have heard into English: Stasera sessione? It was something like that, perhaps. The concepts all blur together.
You can tell, even through your eyelids, that the lights outside are coming back on. Dim, much dimmer than before, but new generators are spinning up. Alas, the Great Work continues. You should escape while it's still too dark to identify you.