Opening this app at this particular hour while sitting in the airport was a bold choice from me.
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Burning Shores is coming, Burning Shores is coming, Burning Shores is coming...
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Open to: f/nb
Suggested connections: Any. The more f*cked the better lbr
Possible k*nks: size difference, monsterf*cking (obvi) knott*ng, nonc*on, watersp*rts, breed*ng, abo, surprise me idk
"What's the matter, little one? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were lost." The voice that bellows out from the shadows is deep and booming as it reverberates through the eerie forest. He'd kept his distance as he watched the woman stumble further and further into the wooded area. "Didn't you hear that it's dangerous to be inside these woods at night? Something just might eat you up." Vander can’t help but grin from ear to ear, still in the shadows as he maintains a perimeter around his prey. Playing with his food wasn't always the wisest choice but Vander had a certain weakness for theatrics. After all, he wasn't the only monster that thrived in these woods and any of them would be eager to snatch up the pretty little thing presented before him. Armed with a keen sense of smell, the massive werewolf would be able to catch if something else was close by. There's a sound of snapping branches as the wolf bounds from the tree he's perched on before making a resounding impact onto the forest floor. No longer in the dark, Vander's hulking form is visible to the woman for the first time. Jet back fur covers him from head to toe save for the streaks of ivory fur spreading across his strong chest. The darkness of his fur only further highlights the crystal blue orbs of his eyes as he turns to look at the girl. As he postures up on his two legs, it's clear he's truly a haunting visage. He's easily ten feet in height, armed with a muscular frame that would make a Kodiak bear seem tiny. "And now comes my favorite part - does she choose to try and run or does she beg for mercy? Or perhaps she makes the mistake of thinking she can fight to determine her fate." His last words are spoken as he's taking his long, sharpened claws and passing them through the trunk of the nearby tree, cutting through the bark like butter.
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It's 2009 and you're an advertiser who just got assigned this sweet job for a holiday commercial. You know, family stuff was always hard for you to write as a only child, but you really think you nailed the dynamic here. Now to submit the final cut to Folger's and
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‘‘Twas the night before Dracula
And all watched our clocks,
Waiting for Dear Friend Jonathan
To fill our inbox
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