#but it doesn't stay where i put them.

[aediondraws]

crowley throwing books

i loved this running gag sm i felt the need to draw it. he rlly said if aziraphale can turn the Bentley yellow, he can turn the bookshop upside down lmao

[daily-ethoslab]

my bad for not adding skizz won't happen again

[justmenoworries]

This is gonna sound beyond weird, and it's gonna be egg on my face if the show doesn't go in the direction that I think it will with Vox but...

Is it just me or are there several paralells between Vox and Angel?

[tricoufamily]

ilya's parents + ilya at different life stages

[knickynoo]

The Keatons + name meanings

[thisisntreaver]

Thinking about Reaver, her, and how she effects his relationships.

Like Reaver can and does bed anyone willing, he barely remembers them, he has no qualms about hurting people and fidelity isn't part of his skill set.

But I feel like he would likely have some sort of faithfulness to her. She clearly haunts him, he hasn't forgiven himself for what her death, he misses her but refuses to admit it because that part of him is meant to be dead.

Which leads me too my point, I think very rarely, he finds partners that remind him of her. Be it in looks or mannerisms, he finds them and he clings. He'll never be as loyal to them as with her because for as much as they're like her they're so different. Too different for him to be entirely loyal too, too alike for him to discard as easily as he'd like.

He may not even realize it, a subconscious part of him that looks for her, is desperate to find her desite her being long dead and grabs onto it as firecly as it can. He can never actually have her again but he'll take the scraps, he'll pretend shes who he's laying with, who he holds. But its not, it won't be and its his own fault.

[rosie-b]

🦮 fill this empty space (ask game)

(link to the summary)

This turned out to be... longer than a snippet, and like the summary, angstier than I expected. It's been that kind of week ig! But there's a promising ending because I needed one :)

It had been a warm summer day when the old Marinette died.

The new Marinette woke up surrounded by golden light, soft, green grass, and the soft murmurings of a stream in northern France. It was perhaps the best way for her rebirth to happen, in a calm, relaxing environment far from the place she somehow knew was home.

She met her family there. They already knew her, and called her "maman," or "ma femme," or "my lady."

Marinette was no one's lady. She never had been, but according to video evidence and the testimony of her husband and children and best friend, that was one of the many roles her past self had filled.

Marinette did not know how to fill any of those old roles anymore. But because of the secret, magical way she'd chosen to lose her memories, she couldn't let anyone know this fact. She had to study years worth of business lessons in mere weeks, preparing for her return to Paris and the international company she would soon be in charge of running again.

At least her past self had accounted for this new Marinette's incompetence. But no one else seemed to see that she wasn't the same woman she had been once, back when a kwami lived in her purse and villains of the day (and year) kept plaguing Paris.

Adrien, the man past-Marinette had married, professed to still be in love with her. He saw some of the differences between the new Marinette and the old one, but claimed they weren't nearly as big as Marinette thought they were. And he chose to spend most of his time around her, so maybe he was right. He whispered praises for each small thing she did, both when they were alone and in public; took the time to learn her new habits; made her fresh coffee for when she woke up two hours after he did; stayed out of her bed to help her feel comfortable.

Marinette could see why her past self had loved him. It was something both halves of her were beginning to share, a love for this man who found a way to bring joy to her life even when it had been turned upside down.

But it didn't change the fact that the new Marinette was not the same woman he'd married. That fact was written into the vows Adrien and the past Marinette had exchanged; the way they had split up their chores; the daily schedule that Adrien still remembered while the new Marinette did not.

To Marinette, this new self of hers was nothing more than a facade made to cover the void her past self had left behind. She was thirty years old and as empty inside as a newborn baby, with no memories to guide her through this unfamiliar world.

Marinette was an icon, the magazines said. A paragon of virtue in an age of corruption, one half of both Paris' favorite couples, a woman who managed to be a world-famous CEO and an attentive mother at the same time.

That wasn't the new Marinette's reality. She didn't even know her children's middle names, though she was learning their favorite desserts, sports, and hobbies.

Most days, it was like learning a foreign language, and it felt just as isolating when she got something wrong or tried to remember something she thought she knew but actually didn't. Sometimes, this new life of hers was crushing, a drain on her already empty self, taking the last bit of Marinette out of her.

But not always.

As out of place as Marinette felt in her own life, the people in it still felt right somehow. They'd been there for her when she woke up; they were there to hug and comfort her when she cried in the night, to help teach her about her own life and tell her about theirs, and to listen when she said she felt different. They loved her, that much was clear, and they promised to love her no matter which Marinette she was; the old one with all her memories or the new one just fumbling through life.

And somehow, even though she claimed not to feel anything more for them than for other strangers at first, Marinette still loved them back. Their presence soothed the ache she felt in her chest, the one she felt when she couldn't remember, and she found herself more than missing them when they weren't there. She looked forward to hearing about their day, to learning their middle names; she held on to the facts they told her about themselves like sweet gifts of gold and honey, like they were all she needed to survive, to fill the empty space her memories had left behind.

The new Marinette was not the old one, and she never would be.

But maybe that was okay. The new Marinette had her own space, too; it began here, in this remote, rural town near the seashore, and it would expand back to Paris, to the place where the old Marinette had lived.

Marinette's home had always been her family, the people she loved. That was something she knew without having to remember it, and something she was more sure of every day.

So she studied the journals her past self had written, re-learned how to design, baked bread beside Adrien, sang songs with her children and stayed by their side. If her mind was an empty slate, then she was going to fill it with love, the same love she'd chosen before and was choosing again.

And someday, this new Marinette would feel whole again.

Thanks for the ask! I hope you enjoyed <3

[emile-hides]

Everything about this girl tells me she grew up obsessed with the Unovan Subway and looking up to the Subway Bosses and is absolutely training to try and become one someday

[feisaru]

@soccerpunching you're genuinely one of the best people I've met here bc you like almost every media I like

Apropos fighting. Remember when Adora jumps on Catra at Prom. Just them rolling on the floor. I wanted to draw that but didn't get round to it. The scene had such an energy

[storfulsten]

I really want to see whitty and bf listening to music with one earphone in each other’s ear

ended up kinda messy and lazy and colorless but here

bf is probably playing some dumb jokey meme music being a dingus on purpose and whitty's just. vaguely confused or tired or something idk ha

[moinsbienquekaworu]

You don't understand. My little guy. Constant. My little guy.

[softquietsteadylove]

Hello beautiful! Can you continue the Maleficent AU? I'd like to see Fae Gilgamesh and Thena fall in love. I absolutely adore this AU! And i have a weakness for the famous first kiss :)

"For you."

Thena's face brightened with delight as a handful of grapes appeared in her view. Her wings fluttered as Gil handed over the bowl of them before standing next to her. Her wings made room for his, stark white feathers brushing against his pitch black ones.

"You're up early," Gil said gently, turning to look at the sun on the water with her. "How does it compare with the sunrise in the isles?"

"The sea here is more blue," Thena tilted her head, popping another grape in her mouth as the sky rapidly changed colour with the sun's ascendance. "In the isles it's quite a green colour."

"Like your eyes?" Gil asked before he could realise just how embarrassing it was to ask something like that.

"Mine?" Thena voiced, as if there were any other fae present (or with eyes more beautiful than all the oceans combined). "I suppose I never compared."

Gil just nodded, keeping to himself that he was sure Thena's eyes were prettier anyway. He cleared his throat, his wings fidgeting slightly on his back. "We're going to be going to the mainland to do some harvesting of mountain fruits. I assumed you'd want to come."

"Of course!" Thena smiled widely at him, showing off her pearly white fangs. "Druig will want to come too if Makkari is also on guard duty."

Gil laughed loudly, letting it echo out over the water below them. "She sure is! And she asked me over and over and over to ask you to ask him."

Thena also laughed, although it was significantly softer than his. But no less genuine. "She could ask him herself, I assure you. He's so taken with her I'm surprised he hasn't demanded we extend our stay indefinitely."

Gil blinked at the admission. He had always been keenly aware of the visiting status of Thena and her brothers. He knew that their initial invitation to stay for two months was approaching its duration, though. "He hasn't?"

Thena shook her head, smiling more softly and holding her hair back against a breeze. A few locks tangled around her broken horn end. "I know he wants to. I think he doesn't want to sway my decision."

Gil smiled, reaching over to flip around the errant length of blonde from around her horn. "He's a nice kid. He obviously cares deeply about how you feel about things."

Thena beamed with pride at the topic of her younger brother. "Druig is very sensitive to those around him. If he likes you - as uncommon as it may be - he'll be very protective of your feelings. He does a lot to keep me sane in contrast to Ikaris."

Certainly her other, older brother cared about her as well, but Gil had to admit that Ikaris was...less palatable than Druig. "He doesn't seem to be very fun."

"Ikaris' idea of fun is seeing if he can punch through a rock."

Gil let out another laugh from deep in his belly, his wings shaking with his shoulders. He laughed until he had to swipe tears from his eyes.

"I wish it were a joke," Thena lamented, although she was also laughing.

Gil blinked against the much brighter shine of the sun. He turned his gaze back to Thena, who was soaking up its warmth with her eyes closed. It gave him the chance to take in that exquisite beauty she possessed. It wasn't just the perfection of her face, or the shine of her hair or the glitter in her eyes. There was just something he adored about the woman next to him.

Thena opened her eyes, feeling something against her wings. She looked over at Gil, who was staring at her unabashedly. Her cheeks warmed and she realised as her wings fluffed that his had too.

Their wings were meshing together as if with minds of their own. Feathers pushed against feathers; they would need to preen them back into place before flying.

"S-Sorry," Gil murmured, pulling his wings back (but not stepping further away from her).

Thena just shook her head, clasping her hands behind her to forcefully pin her wings against her backside. Such rogue appendages, she cursed.

"Thena?"

Her eyes dashed to the inside of the nest; it was Druig looking for her. She offered Gil an apologetic shrug, "he'll keep calling until he finds me."

"Better go," Gil nodded, "before he wakes the whole mothernest."

Thena offered a tight smile, still hesitating as she gravitated towards the opening to their little private balcony of sorts. "See you soon?"

"I promise not to take off without you."

Gil blinked as Thena rushed back to his side, leaning forward and raising her wings as she did. They rose around them, shielding them from prying eyes as she brushed her lips against his. It happened so fast, he didn't even have time to react. His hands were only halfway up to her cheeks as she pulled away.

Thena pulled her wings back to her again, offering a coy little wave of her fingers as she dashed inside completely this time, her billowing white dress and sunshine hair dancing in the wind as she did.

Gil took in a deep breath. He wanted to scream out in joy over the ocean, but he had just brought up how waking everyone in the mothernest was not a good thing. He settled on leaning against the edge of the little overhang, grinning like an idiot as his wings stretched all the way out and flapped in delight.

[jackdawsfavorite]

What doesn't kill you makes you sad strange defensive and difficult to connect with

[giantkillerjack]

WHAT UP THE CONFLATION OF SUFFERING WITH LOVE IS EXTREMELY QUESTIONABLE

Tags on this post, by @saint-ambrosef and @mariposasmonarch, isolated here because they accidentally hit on EXACTLY what I think brought about my original line of thinking:

#of course christ dying wasn't “necessary” #but damn if it isnt the most visible and obvious way to show someone that you love them #a person snapping their fingers and giving you everything you wanted isn't nearly as impactful as that person willingly enduring personal #suffering in order to give it to you #thats what we mean when we say “christ died for us” #not because he strictly had to but because he wanted to show us just how far his love goes #we puny humans can know in our lowest moments that god incarnated himself to be brutally murdered #just to make his “i love you” absolutely clear #its not a guilt trip...it's reassurance in its purest form #<- YES #and if this isn’t the most beautiful and touching expression of True Love #the Selfless Love #Love which is Willing the Good for the other for no reason but just that

I disagree with this. All of it. I genuinely think that dying for someone is a shitty and stupid gift, especially when you didn't need to do it and it provides them with no tangible benefit. I think this is a dangerous and irresponsible thing to teach your children.

Martyrdom and suffering are not inherent expressions of love.

I believe in good for others for the sake of good, and kindness for the sake of kindness. But what always throws me for a loop is the Christian idea that suffering on its own is a form of good. I disagree. I disagree with my whole heart.

As a child, I was taught that the best thing I could be is Christlike. And I was Not Okay.

I lived my life ready to set myself on fire to prevent someone else from feeling a chill, and this impulse still follows me over a decade after I lost my faith. (There were other factors also, but religion played a big role in this attitude.)

It has been devastating to my health, nearly to the point of death on multiple occasions. The idea that the best and purest form of love is to suffer - It's gross. I think it's gross. I don't feel loved; I feel like if someone tortured themselves to death and then I was told to rejoice, for they did it all for me! And I'm like... oh. I didn't... ask for that?

I've lived my entire adult life without proper healthcare. I would argue that someone snapping their fingers and giving me everything I ever wanted would actually be a LOT better for me than if they suffered and died. Like, magnitudes better.

I believe that the purest form of love is to LIVE for another person.

I've done that. I do that. I've seen people suffer pain worse than death and still not die just because they loved me. And I felt loved not because they were suffering but because they were doing whatever it took to live by my side and to live in happiness.

Sacrifice is a part of love, but it is not inherently loving. It has to have a reason or it is just pure performative loss, which actually does feel like a guilt trip!

I just-- I've gotten a ton of completely different dogmatic answers today, but to me, these tags are what strikes at the heart of it all.

The idea that we need to place every single other living thing before ourselves even and perhaps especially to the point of self-destruction.

For an example, in the Catholic church, most of the Saints are martyrs! And they were taught to us like action heroes with superpowers and everything! My little sister with their childhood OCD collected cards of saints like they were Pokemon cards! Which is really cute until you consider that they were a compulsive child idolizing a pantheon of people whose defining trait was brutal self-sacrificial death. They were one of the most anxious children I've ever met.

For me, as an autistic kid, the idea that suffering was somehow inherently good helped me to endure a lot more extreme sensory pain than I otherwise would have. I was terribly proud of my ability to endure pain. But now as an adult with crippling cPTSD, I can't help but notice that none of those sacrifices I made actually helped anyone!

I don't personally believe that gods are real. But if I did, I think I'd be awfully angry at the Christian god for killing himself and having the nerve to say it was for me.

I've literally had a loved one who believed they were a burden offer to kill themselves for me. It was a heinous idea for a gift, and I told them so. They were terribly disappointed when I chose the other, much more difficult and beautiful option, which was to live for each other. Live and grow and love in the light. To plant gardens for each other and cook them into meals. To build and nurture and know. THAT is the most beautiful and sure form of love. I will accept no substitutes.

I hope someday someone shows you love in a way that feels more beautiful to you than crucifixion - literal or metaphysical. You deserve love that isn't defined by pain.

[hella1975]

Bestie is slipping through my fingers in the tams playlist for ursa or is it for Azula later because having that for seeing your mother slowly slip away is horrible but so is seeing the sister that’s been all you had for years slip away to a cause you don’t believe it and “leave” you is ALSO horrible 😩 -🫐

IT CAN BE BOTH IF YOU'RE INSANE ENOUGH <3

[abyssal-luka]

that reminds me, have you ever seen how weird they got about stimboards on tiktok? fucking wild