Tumgik
#if your love is my love
ashturnedtomist · 2 years
Text
When Cardan Greenbriar said, “Come home and shout at me. Come home and fight with me. Come home and break my heart, if you must. Just come home.”
And when Natasha Kingsley said, “I didn’t know you this morning, and now I don’t remember not knowing you.”
Or maybe when Arctic Monkey’s said, “But I crumble completely when you cry.”
Or possibly when John Keating said, “But poetry, romance, love, beauty? These are what we stay alive for!”
But what about when Kevin Atwater said, “If your love is my love, I want more,”
Or maybe, just maybe when Caitie Turner said, “I’d set myself on fire if it meant he’d come back after.”
9 notes · View notes
midnightcrisisstuff · 4 months
Text
actually no, we're not "dating". we're bound together for infinity. like the stars. so, fuck you, actually.
77K notes · View notes
free-piza · 9 days
Text
enough about taylor swift already. reblog and tag the smallest, least known artist you listen to
23K notes · View notes
wildbasil · 27 days
Text
Tumblr media
things haven't been great but i think they will be. eventually 🌻🌼🩷
25K notes · View notes
lucdoodle · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
thought that one Alastor scene would look cool in comic lettering, so i drew this
37K notes · View notes
helluvadyke · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
they're goofin
41K notes · View notes
hansoeii · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
we go just right.
67K notes · View notes
thatrandomblogsays · 4 months
Text
Annabeth: I, a child, had to earn Thalia’s love, that’s how the world works! I have to earn my moms love. Love is transactional, you gotta be worthy of it first silly :)
Percy, listening to this on the train
Tumblr media
34K notes · View notes
nmzuka · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
whatever I'll post my addendum to it anyway
66K notes · View notes
all-chickens-are-trans · 11 months
Text
god i'm so tired of everybody's bad faith interpretations of everything. where's the trust. where's the forgiveness. where's the understanding that most things are complex and most people have many layers. and like the black eyed peas once said. where is the love
78K notes · View notes
demadogs · 1 year
Text
nothing can break the bond between a friend who loves spoilers and a friend who just watched an amazing show and needs to tell someone the entire plot from start to finish
71K notes · View notes
noknowshame · 1 year
Text
why is religious Christmas imagery all so joyful and pleasant? where is the inherent horror of the birth of Christ? A mother is handed her newborn child, wailing and innocent. Her hands come away sticky. Red. Simply by giving her son life she has already killed him. He is doomed from the beginning. Her love will not save him from suffering. Because the thing cradled in her arms is not a baby, it is a sacrifice: born amongst the other bleating animals whose blood will one day be spilled in the name of what demands it. the night is silent with anticipation. Mary, did you know? That your womb was also a grave?
119K notes · View notes
great-and-small · 7 months
Text
Just curious about everyone’s thoughts on this as I’ve been thinking about urban wildlife a lot lately
31K notes · View notes
triptrippy · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
demon king laios bad end AU i think about often
13K notes · View notes
moonflowergayy · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
You idiot, we could have been...us. I forgive you.
34K notes · View notes
chernozemm · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
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.
20K notes · View notes