hi, hola, salut, hallo, ciao, olá, hoi, privet, konnichiwa, annyeong, nǐ hǎo, merhaba, namaste, sawasdee, hej larcies! 🩷
🐳5🦄5❤4💘4⚡2🎄2☃1🍓1
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Hi cies!! Happy weekend, kangen larcies soooo much. Lofyew
🏆3🐳2🦄2❤1🍓1💘1
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ㅤㅤ
Here we assemble and relish supper in tandem, scratch a newfangled extraordinary ascendancy simultaneously with mortals folks we caution about and jubilate together. This solemnised is summonsed with plenary of exuberance and also implication in a pulchritudinous residence and will evermore. 🫀
CODE NUMBER: 777 — LUCKY
Hail, dreamers and doers, whose have soared beyond bounds! Thy triumphs glimmer like dawn’s light, weaving brilliance into the fabric of time. Through toil and hope, thou hast created a moment of glory, a beacon for those who follow: (@MystiCats, @SheIsMathilde, @TeenBuds, @TheAescendants.)
Approximately the equivalent as what we eternally hopes, every vivacity that we revealed will encounter its contrivance residence to felicitous its destiny and ordinance. With sentiments, we divulge with repletion that we regard you wholeheartedly.
Fading whispers,
@TheLamercy. 🪽ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ
Here we assemble and relish supper in tandem, scratch a newfangled extraordinary ascendancy simultaneously with mortals folks we caution about and jubilate together. This solemnised is summonsed with plenary of exuberance and also implication in a pulchritudinous residence and will evermore. 🫀
CODE NUMBER: 777 — LUCKY
Hail, dreamers and doers, whose have soared beyond bounds! Thy triumphs glimmer like dawn’s light, weaving brilliance into the fabric of time. Through toil and hope, thou hast created a moment of glory, a beacon for those who follow: (@MystiCats, @SheIsMathilde, @TeenBuds, @TheAescendants.)
Approximately the equivalent as what we eternally hopes, every vivacity that we revealed will encounter its contrivance residence to felicitous its destiny and ordinance. With sentiments, we divulge with repletion that we regard you wholeheartedly.
Fading whispers,
@TheLamercy. 🪽ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ
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Good evening, my dearest Larcies! It’s been a while since I passed by, hasn’t it? How’s everyone’s weekend? I hope all of you had been spending your day happily. I, myself, decided to stroll around alone today. There’s a lot of things to see, from people who’s playing excitedly with their pets, to a couple who’s proudly in love with each other. It’s a bit unfortunate since I didn’t bring my camera with me to capture those moments, but it’s been so much fun! Let’s take a walk together next time, should we, Larcies? 🤍
❤4🆒2💘2🦄2🎉1🐳1💯1🏆1💋1
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( 🩸 ) like paper dolls left in the rain, colors fading into silence this space turns on quiet bargains & passing hands.
The season bends differently now—what better time to enter the play no curtain can contain? If not you, then who will hold the mask? The strings are tightening, the stage is waiting, and sorrow is already listening.
The chandeliers sway, violins weep without touch, and shadows bow in empty seats. Step nearer, wanderer—@HellowithenFamilia keeps the doors ajar. Cross the threshold, lend your heartbeat to the act, and become part of the sorrow that never ends.
Here, the performance hunts for new voices— 1999–2010 liners, no twins, no mirrored doubles—to inherit the script scrawled in ash. Seventeen or not, the theater accepts all who dare bow to the silence (TAKEN LIST).
The curtain rises, the strings tighten, and the sorrow waits in silence.
The season bends differently now—what better time to enter the play no curtain can contain? If not you, then who will hold the mask? The strings are tightening, the stage is waiting, and sorrow is already listening.
The chandeliers sway, violins weep without touch, and shadows bow in empty seats. Step nearer, wanderer—@HellowithenFamilia keeps the doors ajar. Cross the threshold, lend your heartbeat to the act, and become part of the sorrow that never ends.
Here, the performance hunts for new voices— 1999–2010 liners, no twins, no mirrored doubles—to inherit the script scrawled in ash. Seventeen or not, the theater accepts all who dare bow to the silence (TAKEN LIST).
What entered through the cracked proscenium was not actor nor guest, but sorrow itself *your muse + line and your id* painted in wax and wound in strings. This is The Exhibit of Sorrows, where grief performs endlessly, and applause never fades. (@helloowithenbot)
The curtain rises, the strings tighten, and the sorrow waits in silence.