#notoccultx

[gentlejack]

Visit Original Link

send me a url and I’ll record my voice saying the url along with what I think of them.

@notoccultx sent: NOTOCCULTX 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

[snakeley]

🐍 ooc:     When the WONDERFUL AND FANTASTIC @notoccultx​ SENT ME THIS ACTUAL PORTRAIT OF HER AZIRAPHALE AND MY CROWLEY, suffice it to say that my snake eyes turned into heart eyes within a second 😍😍😍

[crowshe]

Crowley when she thinks about @notoccultx​ getting stuck in doorways because she’s wearing 387393739 petticoats 

[nctevil]

Adam’s drawing for @notoccultx​

[a-shelasso]

@notoccultx​ / starter call. 

❝ IF DIVINE CREATURES SUCH as you exist, then why does such turmoil afflict this world? Why is there so much pain? So much death? Tell me why. ❞

[tcrnishedgrace]

notoccultx replied to your post “plays rick astley’s ‘never gonna give you up’ on his horn”

stares into the camera.

heavenly horn section intensifies

[gentlejack]

⚢   I love @notoccultx​

[gentlejack]

@notoccultx​ sent: “ where have you been all this time ? “ most certainly said in the moonlight at shibden, with meaning beyond even earthly comprehension. Fruits Basket Meme

      --- Well, where has she? Anne curls a smile against her loved one’s dimpled knuckles. For a moment, as she bestows the softest kiss upon Aziraphale’s pearl-bright skin, she loses herself to reminiscence. How absurd indeed to think of her wild-goose chase from Isles to Continent and back again, hopping to and fro between this town and that village in the hopeless search for true devotion; driving herself frenzied with her empty-handed pursuit of a flittering mirage. And ought she blame herself? Certainly, reasons Anne against the minute twinge of snubbed pride, she would have ceased her directionless wanderings much SOONER, had she known to look no further than London for the woman who would make a souvenir of her heart! 

      Laughing, her mouth finds the delicately curved shell of Aziraphale’s ear, suckling the lobe between her teeth and treating it to a tender love-bite. Then, soothing the sting, she strokes an admiring thumb across the silver-set bead of jade that adorns her angel’s ear --- a gift, each part as expensive as it is beautiful. She must not and CANNOT stop marking the woman as hers; hers, in fact, alone. 

      “ Hm, ” Anne muses, nuzzling the tip of her nose into the fine curls that frame Aziraphale’s temple and smirking around the indecency of her whisper, “ between the wrong set of thighs ENTIRELY, I am afraid. ”