#my idiocy

[ringtaileds]

Cannot believe the only way ill ever get married is by doing so for ulterior possibly fraudulent means. The fact that I may be unlovable romantically to the point of desperation from family is almost hilarious.

[thelesbianoftheopera]

🎵DEVIL TAKES THE HINDMOST!!!!!🎵

reblog w the song lyrics in your head NOW. either stuck in yr head or what yr listening to

[bouquetbanquet]

killing myself over and over would make me feel less suicidal I think

[reusable-raccoons]

MARIA FINAL GIRL I KNEW IT! I FUCKING KNEW IT SHE CANT DIE NOT WITH THAT NAME WOOOOOOOOOO

[rambling-fool]

"10 years of war they killed us slowly, tonight we'll be the ones who slayy"

*Odysseus, Eurylochus, and Polites turn to camera, in full drag*

[mareeoth]

Poor man was forced to sound like that one google translate star wars lava battle video

Anyways!! Alvin (the robot) belongs to me and Isidor (the repair guy that gets slapped in the face) belongs to @cirilee ♡♡♡

[void-dude]

Oopsie baby!

Shake just woke up, beer in hand smh

[anotherpapercut]

hey y'all I have another favor to ask you. a trans employee at a Polk County, Missouri library was recently thrust into the public debate literally just for wearing a pronoun pin and being trans while doing a storytime for a couple of families. if you've got a minute please consider sending a quick message of support for the employee and for the library publicly standing by him

[neighborhood-yogurt]

Sorry to tell you this baby. but if your little fantasy story uses the word July, you done gone and canonized the Roman empire. Sorry bout it, but that's just how it shakes out sometimes, big boy.

[zenlosingit]

Back in middle school one of my favorite types of fics to read were reaction fics where the characters read/watch the story they’re from, and nowadays since I’ve been getting into danmei I can’t help but image these types of scenarios— especially for svsss.

Cause the idea of it alone is fucking funny to me. Typically the set up is always post-canon, or rarely before major events, but always without fail everyone is minding their business and suddenly they find themselves in this unknown space and having to engage in a apparent story about them.

Like you mean to tell me that key players in svsss are going to see how past events played out through SY!Sqq’s eyes??? That they suddenly have to grapple with the knowledge that he’s a transmigrator and has replaced the original Sqq for years yet have to quickly move on from that AND THEN LEARN that this man is not a levelheaded, peerless cultivator but an anxious guy who freaks the fuck out before going “fuck it we ball” and whose also oblivious to how others revere him.

It is nothing but clown hour in this scenario, no one is coming out of this unscathed. And oooh just wait until they get to the reveal about who Sqh actually is…

[ringtaileds]

On a less dreary note GUESS WHO GOT FLAWLESS ON SOME NEW JAMS IN FORTNITE WOOOOOOOOO

[satanic-fruitcake]

thinking about that loumand dominating game night post again it’s so true. especially something like a quick-fire ‘guess the musician’ thing

“okay louis. my 500th birthday” “that does Not narrow it down we did a lot that year.” “oh come on. you know. the best part. with the roses, louis!” “ohhhh. prince :)” “yes! oh this one’s easy, i love him, you hate him.” “brian eno.” “yes. oh :/ we thought we saw her in london but it turned out to just be a superfan lookalike :(“ “amy winehouse. that girl was such a poser, she didn’t even taste like alcohol🙄” “i know! oh this one’s good. one of their songs came on while we were making love and we had to stop because we were laughing so hard.” “the offspring.”

lestat and daniel: 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️ so should we start making out, or -

[lineffability]

"Crowley."

Crowley froze, every atom of his body coming to a complete standstill. Aziraphale had appeared out of nowhere, just like that, and he felt like a fly in a spider's web, like he had just run against a glass door that he could not have seen. Oh, this was cruel. He did not turn around.

"Don't even use doors anymore?" He tried to keep his voice level, cold, unaffected. He failed considerably, but the message got across anyways.

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale said, immediately flinching at the words. The first time they were seeing each other again, after-- after that, and his first words were I'm sorry and he was apologizing for not using a door? Aziraphale felt like swearing, but could not. "I thought you wouldn't open if I-- well. I thought this was easier. Like a bandaid."

"Well, you were right. I wouldn't have." Steel was creeping into Crowley's voice, steel around his heart. With a forcing of limbs, he spun around, his gaze piercing through the armor of his sunglasses. Facing him.

"I need your help" Aziraphale said.

"What," Crowley said. He had possibly never put as much meaning into a single word. The glass door turned into a Great Wall. Aziraphale understood. But he was willing to climb.

The angel (oh, a true angel now, wasn't he--not his angel) fumbled, talking with his hands before his mouth even opened. Talking with his eyes, too, but they got lost in translation. Repelled by a black mirror.

"I know this is untoward. I know it's-- But Crowley, I don't have a lot of time."

"Nothing lasts forever, yeah," Crowley spat, hating himself the second the words left his lips. Unnecessary cruelty. Demonic, huh? Worse yet, Aziraphale accepted the verbal lashing. Don't forgive me, Crowley thought.

Crowley looked at him. He was still wearing his suit, there was tartan in it, but it had become polished, the worn edges returned to pristine, boring perfection. He looked prim. Proper. Perhaps this hurt most of all.

"Why are you here?"

Aziraphale glanced upwards. Then he looked intently at Crowley. I don't have much time. Right. He couldn't speak freely, Crowley realized. Of course he couldn't. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, what he had known would happen. His angel in chains. (Yet here he was. Here he was.)

"They don't know I'm here," Aziraphale mumbled, gesticulating weakly between them and Up. "I guess I can divert their attention now, for a bit. Comes with the new powers"--he shrugged helplessly--"but not for long. Crowley, do you know about-- about the-- what they're--"

"Armageddon 2.0? Sure."

There was an undecipherable look in Aziraphale's eyes. "Why didn't you-- well. It's not just. I mean it kind of is--it's. More than that. Crowley, I need you to do something for me."

"No."

"This is important." (This isn't about us.)

"I don't care." (There is no us anymore.)

"You do! You always have."

"Oh not this again," Crowley hissed. "You were an angel once. You can be forgiven. Shut up."

"That's not what I meant."

With two long, angry strides, Crowley closed the space between them. Menace, anger, hurt-- "Then what did you mean?" He spat the words. Like a weapon. (Then why was it a question?)

Aziraphale's face crumbled. He stood his ground nonetheless, not backing away. The angel's anger was less spiky, but it rose to meet Crowley's. It made his next words hit like bricks. "I mean that you love. I mean that you, Crowley, are the best person I know. I mean that I love you."

The words dropped like a lead balloon.

There was utter silence between them.

Why were they so close?

Why were his sunglasses so dark? Aziraphale saw only his own reflection. He couldn't bear that, and dropped his gaze. Oh, worse. There was his mouth, mere inches away.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley's lips, really really looked, and there was nothing more, now that he knew about the feeling of Crowley's lips and of his heart, there was nothing more he wanted to do than to kiss him. But he couldn't, he couldn't. Not like this. He needed the next time (he had to believe in a next time, in a time with Crowley, again)--the next time they kissed he needed it to be good and happy and an affirmation. He couldn't bear it otherwise. He would break entirely. He was sure of it.

But still, still-- Crowley was so close. He could smell nothing but him. Think of nothing but him. That weakness again, that soft spot inside him he had never known how to hold down. And with it, Want reared its greedy head. Aziraphal leaned in ever so slightly, felt their noses touch-- and then used all his strength to move away, to pull back. It was not the right time. Not yet.

He looked past Crowley, who might have as well turned to a pillar of salt. Crowley, whose face was a mask he couldn't let slip. The air flickered between them.

There were tears in his eyes when he finally forced his gaze towards Crowley's face, a silent plead to not misunderstand. Please, please. But he couldn't expect that of him. He was pulling away again. But not because he wanted to. No, there was nothing he wanted more than to pull closer. There was nothing more he wanted than to talk to him, to truly talk, to explain and apologize and make amends, but he was bound by Duty and Rules and Watching Eyes more than he ever had been.

This was his rebellion: he lifted a hand, the ghost of a touch, fingertips against cheekbone. The memory of holding on. Of never wanting to let go. Crowley flinched without moving, a shiver of his lips. Aziraphale let his hand drop, briefly, to Crowley's chest, holding it over his human heart. It was beating just like his.

This was his successful magic trick, when it counted: he drew away, leaving a crack in Crowley's steel-clad heart, and a note in his chest pocket.

"I'm sorry. I need to go."

"Of course you do."

"Oh, Crowley. I--" But he did not finish the sentence, knew there was no proper way how. So he said, quietly, softly, "Trust me, please."

And he did. Crowley hated it, hated it so much, but he did, he did trust him despite it all. But it did not erase the hurt. The festering wound. Now what was he supposed to do with that?

With one last pointed look, Aziraphale vanished.

Crowley was alone.

His defenses lay shattered at his feet, and he slowly gathered them back up. He did not mend the cracks. (That's where the light had gotten in.) He cleared his throat. Tried to banish from his mind the look in Aziraphale's eyes, the memory of his lips and of his tears.

And failed considerably.

I love you.

(Touched his cheek, and then his chest, and faltered.)

[this fic is now also on ao3 and being continued there]

[pocketgalaxies]

Is this the beginning of our throuple? (C2E51 || C3E72)

[mareeoth]

Gotta spread my Mikuláš Medek propaganda B)