hypotheticallyimmortal

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I wasn’t crazy about this piece so I wasn’t intending on publicly posting it again, but it keeps getting stolen every five minutes so I figured I’d put it here so people at least know who to attribute the original thing to lmao

[Digital illustration, Procreate App, 2020]

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''what if my writing isn't good eno--'' what if it's a reflection of your soul. what if it has a place in this world. what if you write it anyway

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hey man I found a piece of your soul stuck in the text messages of old friends you don’t speak to anymore. do you want it back

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"my fave did nothing wrong" oh yeah well MY fave fucked everything up and she's still my fave so

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god fucked up making komodo dragons super venomous aggressive and all around unsuitable for domestication. those beafts should be in our homes

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cancel your plans we’re thinking about the pale blue dot voyager pic tonight

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where's that masterpost of quotes that have no right going as hard as they do. I'd like to submit "Protagonism is best left to teens and the insane"

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たまに言われるけど…確かに大きいナメクジっぽい…

As someone sometimes says...he looks like a big slug...

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At the grocery store boiling all the eggs with my mind

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Alma Haser

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isnt it cool how the brain is like a wet computer

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Every post begins its life as a single fertilized cell.

Reblog to help this post zygote evolve into a Creature

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why do they always show cranberries in thos big pits n its implied its wet and possibly swimmable. do cranberries really grow like that. wh

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“I thought this city didn’t have any gods.”

The pigeon grinned a beak full of dog’s teeth. “Ha. They say there aren’t. They even kept most of them out for a while.”

“How did you make it?”

“By being smart. By hiding.”

She gave the one-legged, feral feathered thing a sideways look. “As a pigeon?”

“Sometimes,” said the pigeon. “Sometimes I’m graffiti on a wall. Sometimes I’m a coin dropped in a beggar’s hand. I am neon at night, the rain in the light. I am the song the busker sings. I listen to the prayers of those who come to the city with big dreams.”

“And in return?”

It grinned again. Steam rolled off its feathers, smelling of cigarettes. “I eat their despair.”

“That’s cruel.”

It moved its wings in something like a shrug. “That’s the big city for you.”