Edvard Munch

A soulmate whose love holds you like the ocean’s tide, soft, calming and unending.

my psychiatrist just diagnosed me with 19th century russian literature character

musings on touch the hand has twenty-seven bones, natalie diaz haiku #11, tathev simonyan the touch, anne sexton isn’t the air also a body, moving?, natalie diaz ulysses, james joyce you are jeff, richard siken lady, i will touch you with my mind, e. e. cummings to your hands…, vahan teryan (translated by tathev simonyan) state of emergency, joy sullivan i was reading a scientific article, margaret atwood one of those kisses, viggo mortensen

No safety. No food. No aid. No water. No healthcare. No education. Is this what it means to live? Is this what world accept as life?

If a group of animals were trapped, starved, and cut off from the world like this, people would be outraged. But because it's us—human beings—somehow, the world looks away.

These are unbearable days. Everything feels heavy. Each hour presses on my chest like I’m being suffocated.

My family needs urgent help.

Basic survival has become nearly impossible. Bread—just bread—now costs over $25 a day to make.

We are not asking for luxury. We are begging for life.

Please, if you’re reading this: help. Reblog this post. Talk about us. Donate if you can. Even a small act can mean everything right now.

#crisis #humanrights #emergency #donate #pleasehelp #tumblrcommunity #survivestories #reblogtohelp #signalboost

The Metatron: Archangel Gabriel, as punishment for your defiance against Heaven you will be-

Gabriel, already running buck-ass naked out of Heaven to spend eternity getting pegged by Beelzebub in Hell:

The best little fanon thing they confirmed for me was making the Bentley a little pet. Cause in the book it’s just a one off joke about how the CDs turn into queen if you leave them in A car long enough but it’s like no…the Bentley loves aziraphale and gives him sweets and plays whatever he wants and turns yellow for him and parks where he tell it to and plays “a nightingale sang in Berkeley square” when crowley is heartbroken and plays “good old fashioned lover boy” when crowley is racing back to help aziraphale. And crowley coos to it like it’s a puppy. Love that car

#him

There he is. There he is. There he is.

love how she doesn't even bother to ask if crowley has a wife or girlfriend. one look at him and it's clear there is no heterosexual explanation for anything about crowley