#i love you grandpa!

[nintendo-666]

Everyone look at this picture of me as a baby and my (late, extremely beloved) grandfather looking drunk as fuck (common)

[stump-not-found]

i don't think the theraprism is a good thing, guys

[hinamie]

I don't want to regret the way I lived

[marlenacantswim]

peter capaldi doctor sitting on a bench going "yeah i had a crush on the master. when he was a boy. and i was also a boy. yeah gender is stupid and ours are better than yours. get on our level. idiot." to his favorite lesbian and then missing his mouth and dropping food all over his lap is actually so iconic.

[bruciemilf]

What’s your favorite interpretation of Thomas Wayne? As of now, mine is ‘parent who threatens you relentlessly but would snap if something actually happened to you’

Thomas sometimes takes Bruce to the hospital because A.) Alfred needs a break, and B.) he needs a little intern to fetch him things.

Except Bruce just keeps making grabby hands at all the scalpels and surture scissors. “Bruce, put that shit back down or I’ll knock the white off your teeth, sit down!”

Bruce doesn’t. Thomas doesn’t do shit, naturally.

“See?! See what I have to fucking deal with, Leslie?!”

“He tripped, by the way. “

She’s never seen Thomas run so fast since the night he met Martha, chasing down her car so he could propose to her.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

[right to left]

finally finished This Wip from Ever ago and so now i ask you ever look into another dudes eyes and suddenly want to do whatever he wants

[kagoutiss]

pelican town, ‘72

[quess-art]

I need D'Urge to be a companion 😭 Especially since he's canonical even when you create a custom Tav

(Some headcanons, some based on little snippets of dialogue from the game)

Edit: Baby Durge Tail Wag GIF

⇐ Previous | Memento of The Dark Urge | Next ⇒

[laurrelise]

one of my favorite parts about that scene in season 3 episode 7 of the umbrella academy is right after the umbrellas and sparrows “contained” the keugelblitz and celebrate by opening several bottles of alcohol and partying, because in every single shot ben is in, he’s either trying to get himself or five as wasted as possible

[knifeforkspooncup]

Please click for better resolution!

I made this silly little art, and then like a being possessed, wrote 1200 words of pure unadulterated hogwash to go with it (ficlet below the cut)

Duck Duck Goose

Rating: Teen and up

"Shouldn't be feeding them bread." Crowley said, trying and failing to ward off an irate goose with the pointed toe of his boot. "It’s brioche." Aziraphale chided, as if that explained anything. A nattering crowd of ducks was forming at his feet like eager disciples. Crowley didn't ask where he'd gotten the brioche. He'd stuck his chilly hands into Aziraphale's pockets enough times now to know the list of things the angel kept on his person at any given moment was - well, impressive was one word for it. In the way a magpie's hoard of oddities was impressive. A brioche was quite pedestrian, really. "Brioche then.” The goose had moved on to striking repeatedly for his ankles, more pit viper than waterfowl. “Shouldn’t. Feed them. Brioche,” he gritted between defensive maneuvers. He never had gotten the hang of sword fighting. If Aziraphale heard, he pretended not to, ripping off hunks of bread at least double the esophagus diameter of the average mallard duck. One at a time, he tossed them lazily into the fray. The ducks erupted into chattering, nipping each other’s feathers. A shark frenzy had more natural order to it.

The goose took no interest, bloodlust overriding any desire for fine French baked goods. If anything, it doubled its effort to latch onto Crowley’s shin. Had geese always had teeth?

Aziraphale beamed at the chaos, halogen bright. Humming with self satisfaction, he brushed his hands of crumbs, and settled back against the bench. Crowley diverted a sliver of bodily coordination to snake one arm behind him, weaseling into the warm gap left by the angel’s impeccable posture.

This was a thing they did now, apparently. Not watching ducks squabble over bread – that part was old hat. But Aziraphale tucking himself neatly against Crowley's side? For all the world to see. Like he was one of Crowley's wings simply stowing away. Frankly, that hat still had the tag on it. Still had that new hat smell.

This was rapidly becoming their new normal. Embroidery on the familiar weave of their time together. They still did all the things they always had. They still went to the Ritz, where the waiter still assumed Aziraphale was paying for the bill. Crowley still pulled out the angel’s seat like a proper gentledemon.

None of that had changed.

Just now they also held hands on the table between courses, and Aziraphale fed Crowley bites of dessert straight from his spoon. Sometimes they even did exciting things with their feet under the table.

Aziraphale called it canoodling. Crowley was pretty sure that was a fussy type of dog. The kind that wore bows on its head and left the groomer looking like an ornamental hedge.

Whatever it was, it was nice. More than nice.

Take today for example. The clouds were parting, birds singing – the whole production; the sun sparkled just so, really putting the ol’ razzle dazzle on it all.

There went Aziraphale, tipping his head back against Crowley’s shoulder, eyes closing. Lashes sun-gilt and fanning on his rosy cheeks. Straight out of a renaissance painting. A nice, expensive renaissance painting, on with real lapis lazuli pigment for the eyes. The angel really knew when to lay it on thick.

“Oh, that’s quite nice, isn’t it.” Aziraphale sighed, basking in the warmth.

See, nice? It was nice. Five hundred years of coming here, and this moment was the most nice it had ever been. Crowley remembered when this place was a marshy field full of roving geese and snuffling pigs. When the trees that made this nice bench were just scrawny little saplings, runty and wind bitten. Had the bench gotten smaller? It used to feel immense, and not in the luxury Cadillac sense of the word. Used to fit Heaven and Hell between them with room to spare. Back when nice was a four letter –

The goose sunk it’s – definitely toothed – beak into Crowley’s shin, just above the boot.

Satisfied with its grip, it started to flail, giving the impression Crowley was a chewtoy it meant to thrash to death. The small part of Crowley’s brain reserved for humility was starting to believe it would succeed.

"Dinner? How would you feel about a nice, tasty Christmas goose?” Grunted Crowley, shaking his leg and raising his free hand, demonic miracle at the ready. He had just the goose in mind. “With all the trimmings. Could even do some plum sauce on the side if you like,"

Aziraphale frowned, eyes still closed. “…it’s October.”

“That a no, then? Don’t want to get a head start on the festivities?”

Aziraphale looked up just as Crowley managed to dislodge the fowl beast and punt it away like a feathery football. It came right back, tongue stuck out like a rude child and wheezing angrily.

He tsked, mouth thinning. “You’re terrible. Leave the poor thing alone.”

Crowley sputtered. “Wha – ha – me?! I’m not the one biting a boot like a lunatic!” Would that work? Biting it? Maybe the goose would bugger off if Crowley bit it back. Should he bite it back? He should probably bite it, shouldn’t he. Oh, Satan, he was going to get feathers stuck in his teeth.

The infernal creature hissed, undoubtedly reading his mind. Crowley hissed back, tongue forking menacingly if only for the sake of his own ego.

Aziraphale was staring at him and smiling. Well, smirking. Fondly. The corners of his mouth pinching his cheeks, eyes crinkling under a raised eyebrow. He even had a dimple forming on his chin. Ridiculous. Something in the inner workings of Crowley’s chest did its best impression of a snare drum.

“Shall we, my dear?” Said the Very Ridiculous Angel, stirring from Crowley’s side. He stood and straightened his jumper until there were no more wrinkles. Seeing Crowley still engaged in boot-to-beak combat with the feathery fiend, he added tartly: “Before someone gets killed.”

Crowley grumbled something about demonic wrath and taking bets, but slunk to his feet. He flicked his glasses down and shot a final, venomous glare at the goose before sidling up to Aziraphale and offering his arm.

Aziraphale took it, wedging warm hands into the crook of Crowley’s elbow. He made it look habitual, easy as. Just the natural thing to do. Right as rain.

He was faster than Crowley, at this part. At the settling in. He’d taken to it all like geese to psychological warfare.

“You mentioned dinner?” Said Aziraphale brightly, ducks parting obediently at their feet.

“Your turn to pick.” Crowley’s skin was sizzling, water on a hot frying pan.

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment, face thoughtful. He took dinner plans very seriously.

“How about Peking duck? From that lovely place just around the corner, the one with the comfortable chairs.”

Crowley gave him a sharp look, nearly spraining an eyebrow in the process.

The angel was looking resolutely ahead, expression perfectly blank save for the way his mouth twitched at the corners.

I love you, blurted Crowley’s brain.

“Every restaurant has comfortable chairs,” blurted his mouth. It was a fact. Every restaurant did have comfortable chairs. Or else. So far Crowley hadn’t met a chair that cared to find out about the or else – chairs not being very curious by nature.

Crowley would say all the other things later, of course. All the sappy, corny, sweet-nothing things. When they were home. When he could wash the burn down with something whispered and sinfully filthy. Something that would make Aziraphale turn pinker than a summer peach.

Aziraphale was watching him, gaze unspeakably soft. “I know, my dear,” he said.

“I know.”

[queenoftheimps]

I love this Collider interview where Assad Zaman is giving very professional answers with a slight hint of ship teasing, while Bogosian's off like "So yeah I had to explain to the crew how people smoked crack in the 70s"

[sunclown]

Hah?

[dorothywonderland]

BRO LITERALLY DOXXED HIMSELF TO THE CYCLOPS. he was asking to get jumped come on

[yuwuta]

JJK OLYMPICS OHHH YOURE A GENIUS

head spinning w sooooooo many athlete aus rn….. 

satoru honestly isn’t half as cocky as the media makes him out to be but he could be because you bring up world champion men’s freestyle swim times and it’s his name on the scoreboard ten times before someone else shows up. he’s faster than himself by fifteen seconds all around, he’s earned a bit of cockiness. mentioned in the last post that whenever he’s at a competition and he finishes a race, he looks at the camera and signs a little infinity sign and then blows a kiss to you. some bitter old coach always calls him out on it, and gets him fined for unsportsmanlike conduct, and he’s happy to pay the fees if it means getting a message home to you, but eventually you two come up with a new code; and at his next race, he places gold, turns to the camera, crosses his middle finger over his pointer finger and smiles. when he’s in his post-race interview, he makes sure to explain that he does it for you with the widest smile on his face.

megumi nepotism baby but not in the same sport. toji was a multi gold medalist back in his heyday for shooting, so it’s not really a surprise to anybody that megumi has scary good aim, but he takes to archery instead of shooting. actually the idea of megumi being an emo little kid and throwing rocks at a tree when his dad pissed him off his hilarious, and even funnier is toji watching him, slightly amused and a little scared because megumi is maybe six and hitting the exact same spot every single time. he grows to be very blase about it—it’s more of a release/hobby for him that he happens to be really good at, and well, now good enough to earn a few olympic medals. megumi is not a fan of having his dad ruffle his hair on international television after he’s won, but he supposes it can’t be helped.

i don’t know where to put yuuta…. tennis…. tempting….. him in his little white shorts…. little grunts after he serves…. cries….. a complete 180 in his personality when he’s playing vs doing anything else. so charming and sweet and kinda shy when he’s being interviewed, and the second he steps on the court his eyes are so cold it’s scary…. need him… extremely nerdy about his rackets, and shoes, and clothes, and rambles to you about aerodynamics and posture and torque whenever you ask him to teach you, and you always have to shutup him up with a kiss and remind him that yeah you sort of want to learn to play tennis for him, but mostly you came bc he looks hot doing it. once he got asked in an interview if he ever thinks about you while he’s playing and his response was very concise, “no, never. it would be a big distraction,” and did not realize the implications of his heavily televised words. 

also…. not to make this post 40% yuuta but we could pull from canon a bit and make his sport fencing. he doesn’t excel because he’s the strongest, it’s because he’s learned to treat the sword as an extension of himself and a good strategist… also because i like the image of him pulling the helmet/mask off and shaking his hair out………..

don’t even know where to put yuuji…. volleyball? basketball? track and field??? the irony of him easily being the most athletic but canonically does not want to play sports 😭 but i can see him playing a sport because someone scouts him and it turns out to be a way to make steady money to support himself and his grandpa :( by the time he’s qualified and made it to the olympics, wasuke is doing much better (thanks to yuuji having landed some preemptive sponsorships and being able to afford better medical care), but not so well enough that he can travel across the world to watch yuuji play. wasuke tells you that you should travel and be with yuuji, but yuuji is so touched by the idea that you would stay with his grandpa and be by his side when he’s away :(( he wins gold, of course, and he doesn’t even wait until the closing ceremony—which, he’d mentioned in all of his interviews, so nobody can be too upset. he’s on record saying, “i’m excited to play, but i’m even happier to be going home. my girlfriend and my grandpa are watching me and i miss them!” several times— he’s on the first flight home with flowers, and tears in his eyes. puts his gold medal on his grandpa’s neck as a thank you, and spends probably thirty minutes straight hugging you and kissing you and honestly don’t put it past him to propose now that he’s got nike ambassador money 

nanami started judo as a way to relieve the stress of his overbearing job, and someone at the gym/training center notices he seems to be a natural despite being a beginner. he starts to draw a crowd, which annoys him at first because the point of judo was discipline and release from having to deal with too many people at his office job, but nanami supposes he can’t be too mad when you introduce yourself as a talent scout and offer him professional training. there’s irony in him accepting your offer, because it was definitely not based in professionalism at all… quitting his job as a salaryman to become a professional athlete in his mid-twenties was not on his bingo chart, but if it means he will have met you, then so be it. you’re with him all the way, through his training, competitions, world championships, qualifiers, all the way until he’s on the podium. you’re the first to congratulate him, but he interjects by telling you he’s quitting. you ask him why—he just won at the olympics for crying out loud, but nanami just shakes his head, puts down his flowers and his medal so his hands are free to hold your face and tell you, “it would be unethical to kiss my manager, so i am quitting.” (later, when everything is said and done, and you two are cuddling, you mention to him that he could just hire a new manager, and not quit his new career, to which he blushes because yeah… that’s probably more rational, but rational was not in his train of thought at the time)

[laniidae-passerine]

positively obsessed with how Rockstar Lestat is the exact kind of guy one of my friends would show me a picture of and swear he’s really sexy and cool and brilliant. Whole time I’m thinking “oh dear GOD” staring at a trainwreck weirdo and wondering what’s happened to everybody else that is absolutely missing me. jesus christ he’s blond

[feykrorovaan]

Actually Paarthurnax, I would climb all this way for tinvaak with an old dovah.