sorry for seeing the divine in the monstrous. not my fault.

. . . I'd rather like a kitten, I think. Bucket I could do without.

In my lap. Obviously.

. . .

We should be so close to each other to make it not only unnecessary to write letters, but the excessive closeness would even make it impossible to speak. Franz Kafka, 1912.

i’m so “down bad” as the kids call it.

// soz i've been so quiet here! posted up an oc and she's kinda taken over all the soft in my brain 😅 i've still got a bunch of replies bookmarked, i'll try to get to at least a couple of them after work tomorrow <3

Did some ref sheet for the “what if Crowley met Aziraphale but million years later.” She’s an artist. And is also very passionate about human’s creativity. and TikTok smh

A mutual feeling, it seems.

depends on the songs you're drawn to in the moment, hm?

oh, then I think the wine might negatively impact your condition. though who am I to discourage you, you're practically me.

that I'm not entirely sure of, actually. had one on loop for a short while now, still don't know how I feel about it, reminds me of... nevermind that. split a bottle? may as well.

i use my dead language like an arsonist uses his body for kindling / how i set myself on fire for something i can't say, how some things are still burning light.

𝘖𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴.

i can see my flowers and they’re wilting. i’m so sorry but you’re wilting.

i will follow you into hell if you ask me to.