He stared at his comrades, nay, his friends, reeking of sweat and grass, the dull murmur of the crowd, barely understanding what they were seeing but unable to look away, wanting more, even before it was over…these people. He looked at his comrades, and he longed for a feeling, not like the one heaving, his strength waiting for its turn to once again have purpose, resting…no, he longed for a feeling, like those folks, in that crowd, that need to see, to feel all tingly from looking, while relaxing, to feel provoked, oil-optional. Well, boy howdy, do I have just the thing for him. It’s called Strange, and you don’t even need to be lubed up to enjoy it, although, I won’t lie, it might help. I’m not here to judge you, I’m here to love you. In book form. Let me love you in book form?:
Strange you an tear in half when you get mad at it (x)
Strange that you could meet if you went inside of the Matrix, I guess (x)
(Source: 20sur20)
