Wang_Dasu

https://www.wattpad.com/story/374459218?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=lazy_reader 
          
          This book is about three brother with a very crazy past falling in love with the same girl. 
          
          The twist is, one of the brother is engaged to her and keeps her hidden from his insane and obsessive brothers. 
          
          Find out what happens when our heroine finds about the darkness behind her fiance and gets stuck between three Astor brothers.
          
          They will do anything to keep her to themselves and by that I mean ANYTHING..... 

Hey, I appreciate your votes on The Mute. Thank you.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/345887007?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=khushimaduriya123

a small token of kindness (18th March 2022) 
          
          a rose from thorn-like death, a stone of heart and a comb of hell, a marker of prejudice, a hall of fright, 
          destiny clad in archer's arrow, a moment of pride, kith and kin, lies, lotuses and legacies, foreign homes and ginger tragedies. 
          
          fragile skins and paper cuts, laws martyred, twilight sun; clinking pedants, olive guilts; dusty hands and blackberry fingertips. autumn of march, buried hopes; leaves lost to skin, a ground of boiling blood. pear yearnings, spring of fall; cavalier sun and half moon echoes. 
          
          marionberry garnet and ruby hearts; fire-like worship, drowning soils. mulberry blood, violent rugs; gardens of night, orchids of flesh. congested wounds, salted shores; lakes of tourmaline, valleys of balsam. bread and sanctuaries abandoned,  cinnamon paper and ochre canvases. 
          
          deer-like details, fogged empathy; rosary of the waves, prayers of the cliff of throat. bruised knuckles, clay air; riverbed séances, grief burns. crescent universe, a child's veil; rosy vessel, magnolia dirt. whether soaked in water or blood, a heart behind the ribs is still a prisoner in a prison. 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (17th March 2022) 
          
          blood a hand, vein escapees; beads of breaths, prayers and yawns. cliffs of grief, roses underneath; honey flesh and cinder calligraphies, lotus leaves and sea fires. tongues of lore, chants of irises; plagues like magma and scars from matthiolas. human names, future ores; whispering wounds and fury like a father's. 
          
          seventh sun, worship of the vein unknown; harvest of the chest, abandoned swords and screams of chagrin rooms. hyacinth womanhood, sewn battlefields; spines of infatuation, resolute asphyxiation. ravenous souls like saturn, cataclysm glories; tombs of sparks, hell of frosted misery. 
          
          surrendered wombs, traded truths; crevasses of doubts, particulate vengeance, delicate answers and martyred victims. undefined magistrates, sums and divisions; canopy witches, hungry stars and unpleasant consonants. dampened twilight, charade joys and towering sorrows; uterus of shame, liver of passions and blankets of rebirth. 
          
          coffin rituals, precipice pastures; moon howls, poetry tongues. midnight licorice, cobalt corsage; emblem tresses and goblin crescents. vessel's voyage, shadowed daffodils; compassionate weapons, mothers and melodies. oceans, the water of salt and sickening; one loves the seas and carries death in their bones, one holds forests and forgets about the fires and storms. those that love, they are lost; like warmth in winter snow and like half moons that rise for wolves. yet like the sun that rises ritually, love painfully lives on, like a spring of march, buried in chestnut's seed. 
           #adropofhumanity 

Hello. I'm Ashleigh Wilkes. I started writing because I got tired of weak, doormat women characters who take their cheating exes back so easily. My books were plagarised, and I deleted my account. I am back after a long break with a new book, I Still Love You, But, which I recently completed. I rewrote my first book, Karma, and I completed it a few days ago.
          
          Thank you for taking the time to read this.
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/story/279200871-i-still-love-you-but

a small token of kindness (17th February 2022) 
          
          blood a kiln, vein escapees; beads of breaths, prayers and yawns. cliffs of grief, roses underneath; honey flesh and cinder calligraphies, lotus leaves and sea fires. tongues of lore, chants of irises; plagues like magma and healing from stone-seas. human names, future ores; whispering wounds and father's fury. 
          
          seventh sun, worship of the vein unknown; harvest of the chest, abandoned swords and screams of chagrin rooms. hyacinth womanhood, sewn battlefields; spines of infatuation, resolute asphyxiation. ravenous souls like saturn, cataclysm glories; tombs of sparks, hell of frost. 
          
          surrendered wombs, traded truths; crevasses of doubts, particulate vengeance, delicate answers and martyred victims. undefined magistrates, sums and divisions; canopy witches, hungry stars and unpleasant consonants. dampened twilight, charade joys and towering sorrows; uterus of shame, liver of passions and blankets of rebirth. 
          
          coffin rituals, precipice pastures; moon howls, poetry tongues. midnight licorice, cobalt corsage; emblem tresses and goblin crescents. vessel's voyage, shadowed daffodils; compassionate weapons, mothers and melodies. oceans, the water of salt and sickening; one loves the seas and carries death in their bones, one holds forests and forgets about the fires and storms. those that love, they are lost; like warmth in winter snow and like heartbeats drowned in oceans and shores. 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (13th February 2022) 
          
          burning soulmates, strained hopes; braided yearnings, captive dreams. passion- borne blood, water an invisible vesper; moon a poet's literature, soil a paper of hunger. a predator, a musketeer, a thunder; a matchstick, a street of bougainvilleas, half a nail lost, flesh to rust. 
          
          worn arms, ragged pleasures; clean madness, innocent errors. veins of solitude, beats of courage; a farewell to religious laps, to a moon with brave life. mistakes and spaces in ribs, hearts choking in sin; rhetoric trees and murdered portraits in lights of the quiet. 
          
          ashes of nursery amethysts, stories worth centuries within; glass of a new born fist, hope dangling over a pit of abyss. authentic prison, protection from  touches; suspended lungs, pessimism a curse blind. foetal hearts and shrunken graves, suffering mirrors and homely miscarriages. 
          
          evolution of art, sugar theft; white oleander tickles and bleeding disguises of virtues. a city of ciphers,  mountains of parables; consumed violins, bruises of metal and blood. to the eyes find that nothing old or worn, and for the hearts that see no flaws and prickles, there is no death. like the moon and the sun that have not aged; human hearts as these reside as the 'oud of time. 
          
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (08h February 2022) 
          
          vanilla tides, porcelain skies; insurgence of the ganges and anatomies birthed in the womb. lavender pulses, foxgloves of disappointments; afternoon intoxications and stings of moon's salted craters. covenant slippers of sweat, storms of acidic sin; limbs of serenity, heart a serpent's spine. 
          
          wandering knees, furnace meadows; prairie blades, malbec- blurred palms. atlases of ribs, the eyes a stoic bleeding blues; firmament of human organs, the universe a galaxy with it. violent emotions, frigid compromises; people water, their bones abandoned orphans. 
          
          kolkwitzia like the thames, fossils of fame; life a cloak of melancholy, unlike death, of invisibility. today a parlour with letters wordless and addresses of silhouettes blind. nascent blooms and dainty gravel; how much of the truth kills one each day, how often does one lie to not develop resentment to himself? 
          
          febrile offsprings, universe a glory of margaret ache; home a graveyard, ages and agers buried. an emblem of bones, a cremated constellation; mind instructed under a veil, sky a chest of God. sun and the moon, a mind of two names; sisyphean creations, limited incantations. why is the sky allowed two wings, why must a human heart be caged with none? 
           #adropofhumanity 

thank you very much for the precious follow. God bless. it is an honour to have your support ❤