#the wives ever…

[tealbirb]

if I could hold you for a minute /

darling, i would do it again

[dingledraw]

But It’s Pretty… a Good Omens comic- Part 3

Part 1 - Part 2

[youstillsaiditsname]

i think i loved you, but i guess i'll never really know

joan tierney / death cab for cutie / sylvie baumgartel / the crane wives / @araekni / khalid hosseini / lev st valentine / wendy cope / richard siken (reordered)

[jenjen4280]

25 years ago today the cute shortstop and I (left field) went on our first date: drinks at the Four Provinces, dinner on the rooftop of a texmex place, and a movie (The Matrix) at a historic movie theatre (The Uptown).

13 years ago we both said “I do” in front of family and friends.

This weekend was a lovely anniversary. Friday was our niece’s rock academy show, Saturday was my nephew’s baseball team’s championship game (they won) and tonight was a fantastic day with the Hot Wife and I reconnecting.

25 years and I sill love her awful!

[slgoodwinauthor]

At what point is Mary going to be casually leaving a merry widow brunch and see a wanted poster with a fairly decent sketch of Stede on it, wanted in conjunction with Blackbeard, aka Edward Teach???

Just Mary standing there like...Blackbeard, Edward...Ed.

Casually realising that your husband isn't just 'dating some guy named Ed' but that he's somehow gone from 'hobby pirate' to 'hopelessly in love with the real world incarnation of Satan' and then wondering if this means Blackbeard ISN'T terrible and having to just sort of agree when people talk about being scared shitless of this fucking ocean terrorist whilst knowing he's probably out there somewhere putting up with Stede's snoring and addiction to orange cake.

[vebokki]

save a horse

[meirimerens]

[The Herb Brides] are no one’s. They’re… the Earth’s. [...] And each other’s, sometimes.

Shörmös and Yyrghene 🌸🌾

[goryhorroor]

horror sub-genres: domestic

[sentientsky]

my therapist doesn’t know about my mind-altering, borderline-unhealthy obsession casual interest in good omens,,,that might change today aksjskdkks

[raccoonwxrks]

The new outfits made me insane

I HAD TO DRAW THEM BEGIN WIVES C'MON

[cabinetduo]

ouuu do u guys ever think abt how often schlatt pitted the Manberg cabinet against each other like encouraging bullying and dog piling during meetings, singling out whoever he decided deserved the brunt of his anger that day. and in order to protect themselves from schlatt (and maybe also because they all wanted his approval) they'd go along with it like super fucked up daily crucifixions. Like they were all desperate for him to respect and maybe also love them and the cost of that was all of their dignities and relationships right

but like, in private like away from him or one on one it was a little chiller, and I'm talking abt tubbo and quackity specifically obviously. like they don't trust each other even a little, one social mistep in private conversation is enough for it to be used as political ammunition to gain schlatts favor later right? but when they're not with him it's way less intense. guard goes down a little, you can be open about how much you fucking hate the guy or how annoying it is that he refuses to do his own paper work or how there's no way in hell the entire country is going to make it through the fall on spider's eyes alone

but like one more thing also. schlatts crazy paranoid and his paranoia is wildfire contagious

so like, with all that in mind, when cquackity spills to schlatt that tubbos a spy, he was feeling a little betrayed too. that's how I imagine he'd justify it. I mean he'd seen tubbo sneak down to those tubbos and covered it up, yknow solidarity and all that but for him to be a spy? after all they'd been through? for him to have an easy way out of hell after quackity sacrificed his dignity his pride and his morals just to get a fragile grip onto a country he can't even call his own?

whatever WHATEVERTRRR I just, on the podium when schlatt reveals that tubbo is not going to just be imprisoned but executed fo u think it hit cq that this was not just another game of hot potating being schlatts target. like he'd won obviously, schlatts love was his to claim after a move that big but he'd won a shitty fucking prize

[actual-changeling]

the true weight of aziraphale's words only hits him days later, when the shock has worn off and the world no longer looks vivid-sharp and fragmented. 

just like the old times, only even nicer, and back in the bookshop, hearing him say it for the first time, the heaven underneath it all had ripped him open. now, though, with heavy limbs and their respective speeches burned into his brain, syllable after syllable, it's the second part that re-opens those very same wounds.

was this not nice? he wants to ask him, the walls, fucking god herself—or scream, rather, he has grown rather fond of screaming—because he thought it had been, their life on earth. nice and soft and messy, full of arguments, yes, but also nights of laughter and shared heat. graveyard walks and afternoons in the park, eating at the ritz, feeding the ducks, basking in everything alive so they could feel alive, too.

crowley would have given him almost everything, followed him almost everywhere except the one place aziraphale wanted him to return to. after six thousand years, he had finally found the only thing crowley refused to give up—his freedom.

inch by inch, he had clawed his way out of hell and through more pain than he will ever be able to name, and the scars, the burn marks, the fresh air in his lungs are worth it, always have been and always will be. no longer an angel, never again, but not a demon either; he's been on his own side since the beginning.

crowley has thought of his existence as a shared one—theirs—but maybe, with his eyes opened and the truth bitter in his tongue, maybe they'd led two lives after all. one full of magic and fairy tales for aziraphale in which polishing away every spot and destroying every flaw would eventually create a perfect 'us'. he wanted to take him right back to the start, when mistakes didn't exist, when crowley didn't exist.

yet crowley, despite what he regularly told his plants, the mirror, himself, had never been chasing after something they did not have. love is just as flawed and messy as life, and he basks in traffic jams and cloudy days, in existing as his own person without any affiliation, occult, ethereal, or otherwise.

he had never wanted them to be perfect, just undeniably real. in the end, even that was too much to foolishly hope for, a lesson once learned branded into his skin anew:

ask and you shall lose.

[deadbaguette]

Smoke break

[miss-americanbi]

i find the fact that some people think aziraphale slipped crowley tongue during their kiss absolutely hilarious. my brothers in chirst he can’t even speak the french language do you really think he can french kiss???

[rain-is-cool]

Me when silly block people plague my every thought:

[earlymodernbarbie]

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived by Taylor Swift x The Six Wives of Henry VIII