Sometimes I fuck Mothman

Omg I love this piece. Grace the hanging man, content with his life but cannot avoid the changes coming; the ship his noose, the rope that binds him to his fate; the blood red stars beside him, Olesya and Yáo the angels haunting him in the background. Eva Stratt, the one who holds it all on her back, the world is literally on her shoulders, the Petrova line on her neck. She will not falter, cannot afford to move, and yet still she glares at us. Eva challenges us, daring us to ask if we could do better, if we could hold her burden for even a fraction of the time.

not she berry or he berry but no berry

When I was in grade school I used to send emails to biologists and zoologists asking them questions to get answers to include in school projects I was working on, and would cry when they did not respond because I thought I was stupid for thinking that some random kid would ever be deserving of a response from someone who does something as smart and cool and important as *checks notes* studies frog fungus.

Grace, you can't say that!

And it's fucking amazing

The Angel of Death

Context: my teacher translated the verb “to grasp with one’s hand” as “to fist” since that’s kinda what it literally means, but you can’t translate it like that into English because “to fist” means something ENTIRELY different, but she doesn’t know that.