Take A Dip
His fun was cut short as the winch tightened the rope again, pulling him back up, as he frowned, the tar dripping from his fur. "for the last part, just stay calm and perfectly still."
STUCK
Good can inspire too, but more often than not, its drowned out by the black tar, the black tar of existentialism. this whole poem is black tar, would that make a good title? hmm where was i?
The Breegull Boat Part 4: Never squat when tired.
Along the way, she grew slightly more accustomed to her omnipresent layer of tar, which she lost an interest in shedding. flying was a no-go in the ocean, and swimming was never her deal anyway.
Azerite Language Notes
Krak-tar-kesh! = "son of (a) bitch!" sept!
The Breegull Boat Part 2: The non-garbage barge.
She contemplated whatever her originally tumble at the harbor was in non-oil substances, as this thick, crude material was so much like tar it was hardly like the stuff that polluted the harbor.
The Breegull Boat Part 1: Slimy, sticky, shiny.
She'd been there so long she started to run out of obvious terms to describe it. Not that she minded the challenge, though she took it as a clue that she'd been stuck there a little too long. Once you go from 'taped scrap' to 'bolted plates' it's easy...
Watch Dogs 3- The Lost Boy
It contained some waterproof matches, some rags and a small brick of tar.
The Forge of Heroes - Trials
"j'tar!" the mountain lion's mother bid, coming out of her door. "it's dinner time for us too, kit." "alright," j'tar sighed. "coming mom." kezak'han looked at the others, after they'd waved goodbye to j'tar.
Those Bygone Dog-Star Days - Chapter 6 of 37
My eyes adjusted to the change of light a little slower than i wanted and i stumbled on the rubber-backed rug safeguarding the museum from various messes caused by mud, grime, dirt, and tar threads.
Episode Nine: Dream Factory
Instead she was busy cleaning a mess of oil, tar, and feathers that had appeared in the first floor backroom. near the broken window and glass, there was a knocked over oil lamp, a jar of tar and a pillow that had basically exploded on the floor.
Poem: For Dakota
I hope to still make you shine more and shine amongst the stars with camping, kids, and cons galore unless that love is tar.
Chasing the light
Each tear, my own hail of tar. every morning i awaken, open my eyes. every adorning i partake in, pen my haze. to realize the truth, our calling. to surmise this ruse, our dulling.