Inspiration comes in many different forms - sometimes disguised as the backyard darkness, and other times, through a pallid dream about to be born. She is the burning whisper of a summer heat, and a liminal space between meandering thoughts; the devil's acidic spit and the sanguine touch of angelic arms...
She Said 'I'm Your Death', but Refused to Show Me Her Licence
The Third Law of Ancient Magic
Starchild's Vampiric Dream
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