#this is what heals the soul

[alsiken]

Day 7!

[mischievous-thunder]

It's still so unbelievably baffling that both of them felt such a soul to soul pull at that very moment that they decided to sacrifice themselves for the other person's happiness. Theirs is the epitome of a love that's pure and truly selfless.

[sketchy-tour]

These were meant to be warmups. ANYWHO!

Went to a random palette site and picked ones that were reminiscent of Wally's colors but still very different that I liked and grabbed some outfits to do a sort of challenge for myself. Idk, thought it would help me out of my funk.

Suffice to say, I'm feeling a bit better now~ These were really fun to do!!!

[lotus-pear]

rewatched madoka magica again today bc i fucking hate myself and to absolutely no one’s surprise i went through all five stages of grief in a single evening

[gayofthefae]

The meme distracted from it and the rewatches desensitized it but Will canonically said

"I feel like being gay makes me a mistake, broken, like I need to fix myself...until I remember that being gay means I get to love you"

[kj-beastboy]

TJ_flugslys

[cybertron-after-dark]

Being constantly surrounded by the presence of a loving God sounds great until you realize you never know when his freaky fuckin eyes are gonna show up to check on you.

And man. They do it a LOT.

[chocochiptrip]

alear but now he's a magical girl💖

[lostandbackagain]

it's actually so funny that meggie and fenoglio's plan A was necromancy. didn't even try assassination or like supporting violante first

[spotted-owl-sketches]

Day 4- Bind

Yeah I drew Volo based on lucifer art again, no one's surprised. This time the reference was of the Fountain of the Fallen Angel in Madrid, Spain o(*^▽^*)┛

tfw you're devoted to Arceus and yet you're bound to the devil lmao Volo you're a mess

[rangersoup]

if we dont see tk breaking down holding carlos' face saying something like "i love you, i thought i lost you" after carlos wakes up then im gonna be LIVID.

I NEED HURT/COMFORT.

I NEED TARLOS.

I have been thinking very specifically about the face holding lately… how did you read my mind anon? what even is the point of shooting Carlos if not to have TK talk to him while he’s unconscious and cup his face in hands and tell him he needs him, And can’t image a life without him, and how much he loves him and needs him to wake up?

I may have to write this.

[manwtv]

Inspired by chapter 29 from @slexenskee's Famous Last Words ! ("inspired" because it's not quite exactly like the fic but I accidentally didn't realize until I went back to check and was too lazy to redo my lineart sooooooooooo-)

[mymitochondriaforpresident]

The racism my beloved Simon had to face….my baby. 🥺💔

Although painful to watch, it felt incredibly validating. It was so annoying watching some people say this show was “only about class” while dismissing the BS that Simon had to go through. The abuse was ten fold because he’s POC and S3 finally exposed that.

That being said, and on a more positive note, it was so incredibly sexy when Simon sang happy birthday to Wille in Spanish (he feels safe with him!) and when Wille admitted to fantasizing about stroking those beautiful curlssss (and then actually did it). 🥹❤️‍🩹

Wilmon forever. 🤎🤍

[andromeda3116]

all right we did the "underrated badass moment" and riza communicating to roy about selim's nature from right under bradley's nose won, so how about this?

[mythalism]

realizing how the reason i love the idea of solas healing the blight in the black city is so much is probably because of my own fmab bias where i imagine it like him talking to each of the titans severed spirits and preserving their identity the way hohenheim talks to all 536,329 xerxian souls inside of him to preserve their humanity and one day they repay his kindness by sacrificing themselves for the modern amestrians. bioware would never pull off something this brilliant but this is how it is in my head

[shallowseeker]

With Cas mortally injured and their loved ones in peril, Dean offers up his soul, knowing it could destroy them both—could detonate Dean, could even tear Cas apart.

But there’s no other choice, and so, Cas reaches in, his arms sliding between Dean’s ribs, and Dean braces for the agony, for his body to snap, to burn.

But it doesn’t come.

And for a heartbeat, all he feels is warmth—a deep, pulsing sensation that spreads through him like liquid fire, too intense, verging on unbearable, like a ceramic mug about to crack from the pressure. And then—water trickling wet and cool—a vase filling in the shape of Dean.

Cas’s arm is inside him—inside his soul—anchoring him to the bed, and Dean instinctively understands that his soul is a battery, a containment, a finite well from which Cas can draw. And Dean wouldn’t mind giving it—wouldn’t mind giving everything.

The tendrils of Cas’s grace snake inside, sharp and restless, winding, coaxing Dean to bloom, to fall open, nourished, and giving in return.

And then it’s all over.

Cas’s eyes are bright, no longer clouded with pain. The gash under his eye is completely gone, and his cheeks are flushed, a healthy warmth replacing the pallor. There’s a dazed look in Cas’s eyes.

Dean watches him, relief flooding through him first, then quickly shifting to something deeper—pride, a quiet joy in seeing Cas whole again. For once, Dean’s the one doing the healing.

But then...

Cas doesn’t pull away.

Cas’s dazed look shifts into confusion. The tendrils try to unwrap themselves, but the second they loosen, everything in Dean surges. Every instinct screams at him that something is wrong. Warning dials crank up to eleven as the terrifying, primal urge to hold on floods him—urging him to keep the connection alive, to keep Cas from slipping away.

Dean feels Cas’s gasp against him, inside him, and then Cas tries to withdraw his arm, testing millimeter by millimeter, hoping for escape. The tendrils stretch, long and sticky, like something out of The Blob.

But he stays, his grace twisted up inside Dean like some alien organism, Dean’s own energy holding on, magnetized, coiling around it with instinctive, stubborn force. It's become a mutated thing—worm turned boa constrictor, tightening with every second.

It’s reflexive, automatic, like breathing, like Dean's heart beating.

"Dean. Let go."

And Dean—with a rising certainty—knows he doesn’t know how to do that.