I’ve always kind of wanted to be part spider… O_O
Forget the politicians. They are irrelevant. The politicians are put there to give you the idea that you have freedom of choice. You don’t. You have no choice! You have owners! They own you. They own everything. They own all the important land. They own and control the corporations. They’ve long since bought, and paid for the Senate, the Congress, the state houses, the city halls, they got the judges in their back pockets and they own all the big media companies, so they control just about all of the news and information you get to hear. They got you by the balls. … They don’t care about you at all… at all… AT ALL. And nobody seems to notice. Nobody seems to care. That’s what the owners count on. The fact that Americans will probably remain willfully ignorant of the big red, white and blue dick that’s being jammed up their assholes everyday, because the owners of this country know the truth.
Its called the “American Dream” because you have to be asleep to believe it.
You want the Manse? You actually want to in there?
Then go and step through those blood soaked doors and kiss your trainer hard on the mouth. The Manse is where they make you into animals. Spinning blades, vicious tricks and more death than the devil can imagine.
They take angels and make them into demons and that’s when let out. It’s not some summer retreat. The Nightmares running it deman perfection and the Fae running the nightmares demand cruel perfection. It doesn’t matter if you want to be there or not because I’ll be waiting for you when you get out.
No, I mean it as a threat.
"I’ve got Arden nailed. It’s leather, rain and hot weather. It’s hot sex, quick death, and magic burning your nostrils before someone unseen starts hurtling riddles at you from the dark.
Arden: is finding your pack mate being force fed muffins and having his skin cut off while the bastards responsible are taking their smoke break right in front of you. That’s when you you’re faced with the question: what are you going to do about it?
Then you realize the person asking the question isn’t the guy with the rose tattoo covering his eyes and his fingers like talons but your own reflection from a broken window.” ~ Slip.