#i be gone

[ebi-noodle-doodles]

i am home

but at what cost

i am ill

help

[sylvies-kablooie]

i do unironically think the best artists of our generation are posting to get 20 notes and 3 reblogs btw. that fanfic with like 45 kudos is some of the best stuff ever written. those OCs you carry around have some of the richest backstories and worldbuilding someone has ever seen. please do not think that reaching only a few people when you post means your art isn't worth celebrating.

[gayforcarstairsgirls]

[r0semultiverse]

Like music to my ears

[modernbaseball]

Naming the female razor brand Venus is so personally offensive to me....you think Venus the goddess of love and sex and beauty was shaving her PUSSY? Go kill yourself

[demonlikejudgeoffire]

motaz saying in his video (x) that he can no longer share aerial footage of the destruction because Israel killed his friend who operated the drone camera—because they killed all of the journalists who had drones and stole their drones—is so utterly gut wrenching.

he's tired. he looks exhausted. but still he talks about rebuilding when the war ends, even if it will take years to recover from the devastation. what I'm trying to say is that we cannot lose hope for an end to this destruction

[qiinamii]

we'll do fine.

[iamthekingdom-iamnotyourqueen]

[junewild]

what do you say to a trans person who’s sharing after-surgery pics?

[xshinina]

*Married life playing in the background

This idea was probably funnier in my head

[chernozemm]

infatuation makes your heart race love is quiet. love sets you at ease.

and because most of my pieces are mental screenshots of little scenes in my head, here's the scene:

Crowley was tugged into consciousness bit by bit. The afternoon light slowly filtered in, as well as the hum of music from the other room and the weird angle his neck was at. He was warm and content and wanted to sink back into his nap, but the threads of sleep fluttered away the more he tried. Finally, he took a deeper breath, shifting in the armchair, and cracked an eye open just a sliver. There he was, the angel, sitting at his desk. Had hardly noticed Crowley was awake, engulfed in his task of retouching a damaged page. Looking at his hands, Crowley became aware of the fuzzy warmth covering his own and peeked down to see a blanket tucked around his shoulders.

The feeling hit him so hard he let his head loll to the side, eyes closed. His chest tightened and he just…buckled. Finally came undone under the weight of his love for Aziraphale. Its inexorable, steadfast pull which he had been pushing back against for millennia, it had finally caught him off guard, sleepy and vulnerable and so tired from holding back, from refusing to name it. It was a quiet surrender. Crowley looked back at Aziraphale with the understanding of a man meeting his end and embracing it.

Perhaps he could gently pull the blanket to the side and get up. Perhaps he could cross the few steps to the desk and place a freshly made cup of tea to Aziraphale’s right. Perhaps he would hold his gaze, for longer than needed to answer “Don’t mention it”. Perhaps he would ask him if he would like a scone with that. Perhaps Aziraphale would understand that this was not about the scone at all. And yet, what Crowley was asking of him was also exactly about scones. And tea. And quiet afternoons together. Perhaps the angel would finally put down his sword, too, and the world would let out a breath it had been holding for millennia.

the soulmate to this piece, i guess.

[bastardiando]

posting across the targetverse here bc it did numbers on twitter

[suiheisen]

quick question: when will she ravish me.

also... the music. the little wet noises... so good...

[hiveswap]

?

[rlyehtaxidermist]

archangel michael, brandishing his trumpet, ready to play the song that signals the end of the world: who are you and what are you doing here

weird al yankovic, accordion in hand, ready to play the polka that signals the end of the end of the world:

[jstardoesthings]

Uh-oh the TV is buffering!!