the redoubt of the ocean in residence.

Reading The Master and Margarita all over again means I get to enjoy little gems like the man you initially think is going to be the main character (Ivan Ponyrev) and one of the title characters who doesn’t actually do much (the Master) end up being committed to the same psychiatric hospital for their own safety quite by chance and begin telling each other about their life stories, and the Master says ‘Mate, I know you’re a Soviet atheist but that strange man you met at Patriarch’s Ponds today could not more clearly have been Satan.’

always such a struggle when you get to the sex scene part of the fic you're writing and you're not horny at all. i don't know. their things were touching. without ANY underwear. the end.

Reading a play is so depressing. Hello can I get a ticket to alone in my house for Never going to get to see this?

our roman republic is getting late

let it be known that i touch grass frequently and I’m still like this.