#source: idek

[skrunksthatwunk]

the debate continues (pt 1) but kurama gets called in

bonus under the cut (ft hiei):

gay people

#can you tell i'm much more used to drawing hiei and kurama? lol. i just love their hair sm like.. mwah #anyway idek if this is funny but here's more of it ig #also i just typed 90s yaoi cover into google so i know nothing about that image or its source material so like. open to fun facts ig #yyh #yu yu hakusho #kuwameshi #kazuma kuwabara #kurama #shuichi minamino #hiei #anyway kuwameshi bi4bi moment and i think about the discovery of that a lot. also yusuke's nb to me so im picturing another side of this #where yusuke's like oh man... maybe i AM the girl??? but for gender reasons and not like. relationship dynamic or uke/seme reasons or whatv #also poor kuwabara. that's not going to help you very much i think. he's gonna believe in the yaoi hole :( #skrunkart #thinking about how kurama uses telepathy when he's first introduced and kind of never again after that?? anyway that's what going on in tha #hiei extra fyi #kuwabara kazuma #minamino shuichi #idkkkkk #hoorayy anyway so like. yusuke and kuwabara here like each other so much but don't know what that makes them (bi in this case) bc of the #past interest in girls. like they both have been into girls but they feel so strongly about each other they can't just ignore it. so they'r #like shit i guess we're gay now. and that doesnt fit right but what else could it be? and also they have like zero accurate knowledge of #queer people and queerness. very 'completely trusts an am i gay quiz' moment to me #they don't know where to look besides yaoi and that's Not For Them so that doesn't work. confusing times for kuwameshi i spose #plus kuwabara spirit sensitivity = gaydar in this case #a little tiny tiny kurahi in there. to me :)

[wand3ringbard]

Lan wangji: Brother, I kissed wei ying

Lan xichen, the president of the wangxian fanclub: Ok, and?

Lan wangji, confused: I...thought you would be more shocked

Lan xichen: Ah yes sorry...Ahem...AND?!

#incorrect wangxian quotes #mdzs #wangxian #wwx #lwj #lan zhan #wei ying #lan xichen #they gay #source: unknown #idek anymore

[sentientsky]

"I forgive you." It came out like a blood clot—like an artery dripping gore—like an oil spill. Crowley felt his shoulders rise, fall, fall, fall. The air between them hummed, the tension of six thousand years turning every atom electrified and silently screaming. Breath shuddered out of him, human and terrible and hollowing. He had never been more grateful for the swallowing darkness of his glasses, for the way they hid the centuries of pre-emptive grief and wicked terror. The air was suffocating, the once familiar bookshop turned catacomb.

And then, hating himself for it but seeing no other way forward, he spoke the words aloud. "Don't bother". And then he was out in the middle of Soho and the breeze was harsh against his too-warm skin. Stepping out into the sun felt like rising to the surface of some great ocean—the gasping, desperate feeling in his lungs, the sudden crash of noise. A woman across the street called for her wife. A car horn. A dog barking. Laughter, cruel and far-off. He pulled breath into lungs that didn't need it, winced as he felt slivers of cold drive into the soft flesh of his throat.

So that was it; five and a half million years of want and need and burning, aching somedays, cyphered pleas for "our side". All gone in the space between shaking half-breaths and a kiss still seared against his lips.

Fuck it.

He'd ruined it the first time, had forced them both to look directly into the sun, to face the thing they'd been dancing around for the better part of six millennia. He could do better—would do better. At a music café some years ago, a human had been playing the piano—something soft and slow. A jazz number, if the demon remembered correctly. But the remarkable thing wasn’t the song itself, but that they were playing it with their eyes closed. Aziraphale had pointed this fact out to Crowley, excitement lilting in his voice (even then, the sound had thrilled him, sent a stab of warmth through his heart). It was only after the final note reverberated through the room that the artist opened their eyes, blinking in the sudden rush of stage lights. Aziraphale, ever the music connoisseur, approached the musician. The pianist had explained that, for them, reading music never came easy. Rather, they learned by touch, by the way the keys felt on their fingertips. In fact, the only way they could play a song was with their eyes closed. If they watched their hands as they played or thought too hard about their next move, they got confused and tripped over the notes. Muscle memory, they’d said.  It was muscle memory—the galactic familiarity of finding the space between seconds and prying—that guided Crowley now. He hadn’t done it since Not-Armageddon, but it came easily to him just the same. Time, you see, operates kind of like sound, like music; it loops and sways and carries forward in waves. If you know where to look (as the demon did), you can disrupt the flow, send it back towards the shore. 

And this was what Crowley did now. Drawing his hands through the ripples of minutes and seconds and hours and millennia, time stilled around him. It was natural. Easy, like breathing or sleeping. Or loving Aziraphale.  Slowly, the world turned backwards; humans retreating from whence they came, cars driving in reverse, the wind blowing in the opposite direction. If Heaven had taken notice of their "half-a-miracle", Crowley expected them to be able to see this from every edge of the universe. He likely only had one shot at this.

The world aligned itself once more, and time returned to its regular, steady gait—a rubber band snapping back into place. Something hummed in Crowley’s chest. Something bright and burning and the shape of a neutron star.  Hands shaking, he reached for the handle of the bookshop and pushed. The bell above the door rang, clear and and too-loud in the morning air. Aziraphale whirled around, a trembling half-smile on his face. Oh. Oh, somebody, this was going to be harder than he thought. It felt like all the oxygen, all the courage, had been punched clear out of him "Crowley!" A beat, a shuddering breath. "Angel". He pressed his still-trembling hands into his pockets and strode forward. "Oh, Crowley, dear, I've been looking for you. I have excellent news." His stomach did a little flip, something deep within him growing hollow and fearful. "We have to talk," he managed to choke out around the heart still lodged in his throat. "Yes, I quite think we do. I have something to tell you." Aziraphale strode forward, all grins and beauty like a flickering star, all plasma and heat. He could practically feel the agitated warmth roll off of his angel. Crowley shivered. "I just met with the Meta—” "No. Wait," the demon held up a hand, pausing the rushing torrent of Aziraphale’s words. "Just let me say my thing, please." "My dear boy, just—oh, what is that lovely human expression—"

"Hold that thought," Crowley muttered. His eyes burned behind his glasses. Aziraphale looked pleasantly taken aback.

"Yes, how did you know? I—" "No." The angel's eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "No?" "No," he repeated, enunciating each letter with perfect clarity. He was going to do it right this time. He was going to keep him from leaving. He could be good. Right? "I’m gonna speak, and I want you to listen to me without interrupting, m'kay?" Words were building in the basin of his sternum now, pushing up on his airways. He was going to have to say it outright this time; no more waltzing around this frenzied galaxy of emotion. Willing his hands to steadiness, he pulled his glasses from his face, and tucked them into the collar of his shirt. Aziraphale's breath seemed to catch for a moment, meeting the ferocity of the demon's gaze head-on. A deer in headlights. And then, "Crowley, I really—" (Eons hurtled through his mind in a split second, the serrated knife's-edge of want like a being all its own. Aziraphale in the garden. Aziraphale in the tavern, on the cliffside, on the West End stage, in the Bentley, in the bookshop, in the very marrow of Crowley’s bones.) "I love you," he rasped, ichor writhing in his veins.

There, he'd said it., said it fully and completely, without so much as flinching. It was the same love he'd expressed for the past several thousand years in a million little, unspoken ways: an ox rib, a revolution, a church, a burning bookshop and the bottom of a glass and a lost best friend. A yellow Bentley, a lifetime of tethering his life to Aziraphale's, of trailing after him like a moth to flame—like a dog to its owner. "I love you," he pushed on. They were both looking directly into the sun again, Crowley urging them to stare straight into the heat of it all. The words were spilling out of him now, a heaving, thrashing current falling to the bookshop's hardwood floors. "I love you and you can't go to Heaven." Aziraphale froze, pupils blown wide and unblinking, for just a moment. Tension stretched out like a thread between them. And then he pulled in breath like a drowning man (who wasn't really a man at all), and tears were gathering in the corner of his eyes, and oh god, he'd made his angel cry. Fear and guilt and horror slammed into him at a million kilometers an hour and left him halfway between dizzy and nauseous. His fingers tensed at his side, desperate to do something, fix what he'd so obviously broken. Heaven would be on the front step any moment. It was too late, wasn't it? It was always too late. "Crowley—what?" Aziraphale breathed, mouth twisting into a brutal, terrible, heart-wrenching sob. Crowley ached, panic lancing through him like a knife. "I—I really, I can't. You could come with me." He stepped forward, moving to place his hands on the demon's shoulders. Crowley leaned into the touch, almost unconsciously. "Don't go," he croaked, tears beginning to prick his own eyes once again. This time he didn't reach for his glasses, didn't try to hide his fear. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. And then Aziraphale could hate him and his desperate, hungry, reverent love in the aftermath. "Don't go where I can't follow. Please".

His angels blue-grey eyes searched his own, and the weight of his gaze was impossibly heavy, pressing down on his chest like a river-smoothed rock. "Crowley, please. I don't understand. The Metatron said—" His palms found the sides of Crowley's throat, thumbs resting gently on the side of his jaw. Crowley sucked in a breath. "Angel," The scent of earl grey—of old books and soft tartan chairs. Aziraphale's hands were shaking. "I know what the Metatron said," he intoned, soft as rainfall. "You can't go. It's not—they won't change. You're better than that." "But you could be an angel. With me," he murmured, soft thumbs running across sharp cheekbones. "Be my second-in-command." "Don't want to be. Want t' be an us," he felt tears—traitorous, burning tears tip over the edge of his lashes and fall against his face. "Crowley, darling, please." A beat. "I love you." The bottom of the world dropped out from under him in that moment. Aziraphale loved him. He loved him and he'd said it aloud and now it was out there in the world and it was as though every nerve on his body was on fire. His angel pushed on, "Truly, I love you. I need you with me. Please, come with me. We can do good, I know it." He could never say no when his angel asked something of him. Especially not when his kind, gentle hands were holding him like something good, something precious. Especially not when Aziraphale had just admitted to needing him, had injected the word with so much warmth he thought his all-too-human heart might beat clear out of his chest. But there was a first (technically, second) time for everything. He drew in a heavy breath, and tilted his head, breaking his angel's hold on him. Aziraphale's hands—now empty, still shook. He made a soft whimpering sound, and Crowley ached to kiss his fingertips, banish the fear. But instead, he looked up towards the ceiling, to a God who was not there—who maybe had never been there at all. He felt the Heavenly Host drawing near, a sense of hollow emptiness, the scent of absence. This was the time of last-ditch efforts, of holding his heart out and hoping Aziraphale might take it as it was, bruised spots and all. "I can't. I won't. I need to be here, on Earth, with you." "Crowley, please. I don't think you understand what I'm offering you," he huffed. A residual shard of anger stabbed at him then, and he turned his gaze sharply back to the angel before him. "Oh, I understand perfectly well, angel. I'm fairly certain I understand better than you do." Aziraphale's mouth drew into a thin line, tears welling fresh in his eyes again. And still, Crowley ached. A beat. Something in the angel shifted, then, turned on its edge—the walls beginning to go up again, and it was just like it had been not fifteen minutes ago. He was watching the same moment play out over and over again; some cyclical, torrential nightmare. "I would like you to come with me, but," Aziraphale paused, voice breaking in the middle. "But I'm leaving, with or without you." And there it was, like it was predestined. Despite the love, despite the want, despite every shared bottle passed between them, every half-accidental touch and glance and whispered word—despite the way he would’ve let Aziraphale run a sword through his chest... It wasn't enough. It was never enough. They were re-enacting their old magic trick, right there in the bookshop, this time with Crowley staring down the barrel, letting Aziraphale pull the trigger. Aim for my mouth, but shoot past my ear. Aziraphale wasn't shooting past his ear. His bloody ribcage felt as though it might splinter apart. Wingbeats in the distance, a grief wide enough to drown the sea. Crowley reached down, pulled his sunglasses from their resting spot against his clavicle. And then the hunger in his eyes was once more hidden, and he was walking towards the door like a man headed to execution. "Crowley—" Aziraphale nearly keened, the wall crumbling for a split second. Without turning, Crowley said the only words he could think of. "I forgive you."

#did i steal some lines from one of my own fanfics??? yes. yes i did #because im tired and i don't want to come up with more metaphors for time warping rn. so hush <3 #good omens fanfiction #good omens angst #THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE 300 WORDS LONG #FUCK I FUCKED UP IM DEHYDRATED AND IM SUPPOSED TO BE WRITING AN ESSAY WHAT THE FUCK #idek what this is i literally have not edited one tiny little bit of this. i just came up with everything as i went along so i apologize #ignore the fact that the dialogue/pacing/ideas diverge from canon shhhhhh im too tired to look at source material #ehhh dunno how i feel ab this but whatever here's something (???) #take a shot every time i say chest or heart or ache or tremble #good omens #crowley #ineffable husbands #good omens 2 #aziraphale #aziracrow #go2 #ineffable lovers #ineffable wives #good omens season 2 #crowley angst #final fifteen #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x arizaphale #david tennant #michael sheen #ineffable divorce #good omens fic #good omens fanfic #gomens

[daily-teki]

teki cat killing partriodge

Day 151: you wanted him back this bad, huh

#daily teki #idek what to tag this one tbh I think. we might be getting a little far from the source material #but hey

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

ectoBiologist: You are the most unhinged person on this website I love you

carcinoGeneticist: I GET THE FEELING YOU HAVEN’T SEEN MUCH OF THIS WEBSITE THEN

#submission #Source: Tumblr user what-even-is-thiss #homestuck #incorrect homestuck quotes #John Egbert #Karkat Vantas #Johnkat #Communism #Mod Nepeta #//idek if this was even meant as a ship i just find tagging homestuck posts as communism to be really funny #because like imagine scrolling the communism tag in like a political way and just seeing homestuck? #in 2023? #wow.

[seriemorder]

i saw the greatest minds of our generations lost to stucky was the realest post ever made on this site. i did see them. i was one of them. i am one of them.

#no because listen. it was tll the end of the line. #i could make it so enticing for all the mutuals cause they do got flavour for everyone. lil source(s): trust me #but i dont want yall paws all over that. but i do got Thoughts(tm) #idek where they come from i was doing my Thang and suddenly it was like wait i have a thought #and here i am hiding in the bathroom having thought

[benbamboozled]

Dick Grayson: UH, excuse you, it’s a LEOTARD. NOT panties.

Also Dick Grayson:

#look I love you but you are sending out some mixed signals here. #Dick Grayson #Robin #Source is Detective Comics 490 #I would say ‘well clearly these are around the house panties’ but they have the scales and a…little belt??? #so idek

[plussheep]

who care

sorry for all of them except riv saint and arti being so incredibly bland and boring i had no ideas . lmao . lol even . rofl perhaps ?

#rain world #rw #rw survivor #rw monk #rw hunter #rw artificer #rw gourmand #rw spearmaster #rw rivulet #rw saint #rulersweep #i was gonna put details and headcanons and woolever but who caresssssssss blah blah blah #like and subscribe and leave a comment in the comment section bellow and get this video to 10k likes and maybe i'll say it #or something . idek . no one caring rn #this is my art btw . do you like it #don't answer i don't need your response #this is my house and its fine . only thing i need in it is my ego and this expired coca cola bottle #i've never got to enjoy that . except the expire coke bottle thats my main source of energy . the diesel to my mazda #...to whom is it i talk . get off my bus

[gefallene-quengel]

Franz: Nice shirt, Carlo, does it come in men's, too?

Carlo: I think you come in men enough for all of us.

Franz:

#tatort münchen #franz leitmayr #carlo menzinger #source: tiktok #idek if it's really from there #idfk #incorrect tatort quotes

[thatgirlwithasquid]

I feel like, at least once, at Hawkins High, Heather had a bad period day and was extra snippy which Billy definitely noticed cause Heather is a bit of a bitch (affectionate) but she’s taking it further than usual today. So he makes a point to ask her what her problem is and she starts yelling at him cause she’s been feeling emotionally wobbly all day and her cramps fucking hurt and now, embarrassingly, shes starting to cry.

Billy doesn’t really know what to do about this cause, ew, girl problems. But Heather’s his best friend and he isn’t having this. So, after a honestly pretty painful talk Billy herds Heather out of the building and into his car cause he’s decided Heather isn’t putting up with school today. They’re wagging it, and thats just decided.

The first thing they do is swing round Heather’s. Her dad’s working and she knows her mom has a hair appointment so no ones home to yell at them. They boil some water and fill up a hot water bottle. Then they lock up and get back in Billy’s car. Next stop is the store, where they get all kinds of spicy crisps that Heather is craving and some other junk food and soda.

Which leaves them driving around, Billy actually being considerate and not speeding everywhere, just chatting and complaining and sharing stupid gossip. Heather has the hot water bottle resting against her lower torso and a plastic bag full of snacks between her feet in the passenger seat, waving a crisp aggressively through the air as she complains about some guy hitting on her.

Eventually they pull over somewhere quiet, and Heather’s feeling too sorry for herself to keep chatting. So Billy pulls a tatty paperback out that he keeps in his car for while he waits for Max when he picks her up(cause she always takes forever). The spine is cracked to hell, and half the pages show a past of being dog-eared. It’s obviously very loved and Billy starts from the very beginning again and reads aloud to a moping Heather with the car windows down for the rest of the day. Occasionally Heather interrupts to lean forwards and shove a snack into his mouth. It’s a pretty good day, in the end.

#billy hargrove #heather holloway #hollogrove #stranger things #honestly this reads as either platonic or romantic #but idek. i just need to believe it happened #this is my source of serotonin today

[stormvanari]

Harley Crulle, one of the EC’s Guard Captains and oldest sibling of Councilor Loopy Crulle

In the Epilogue, he takes over his mother’s place as the new manager of the Bonesborough Carnival while trying to do better with Loopy

#the owl house #titan’s council #oc #toh oc #my art #harley crulle #tc tag is included since harley is the relative of loopy #btw this captain has Caine’s (TADC) voice #i was gonna make harley the same captain who ‘hates working for this guy’ but idek if it’s possible for his hair to cast illusion magic #and the abomination hair is actually ‘dye’ #i mean harley *does* wear a hat like loopy as his main motor source but harley can’t take his with him to the EC

[figureofdismay]

*posts rpf bait about two costars known to be ~weird about each other staring at each other in a suggestive manner, joking about how he can't help staring*

*writes moral condemnation about shipping the costars because of their real life families in the tags of the rpf bait post*

oh yeah that's consistent and not at all clout chasing behavior 🙄

seriously, you need to pick one side of the fence with this stuff. either market to rpfies or scold us but not both.

#anyway i blocked. even though they were a great source of pics and info #ironically enough. which. they had to know what they're audience was??? ugh idek

[honeyedlashton]

🫠Too much going on🌹

#idek which blog to put this on omg #fucking running #idk the source #I heart?? #otp: i’m fond of you #luke hemmings #lrh #ashton irwin #afi #5sos #lashton #otp: who wants to see calum take his pants off? #calum hood #cth #michael clifford #mgc #malum

[autobahnzurholle]

#southern gothic #source: pintrest #signboard #idek man

[incorrectccrp]

Ted: Hey, picture this. You, me, some champagne, some tap water, polio, and some big fat sex at the end of the night. Charlotte: ...Polio? Ted: Yeah the disease

#incorrect quotes #tgwdlm #op #charlotte #ted #my husband's brains fell out today #source: idek man i saw a screenshot of this in text form

[msdk-00]

final exam done. now just medieval engl essay. about 2000 more words needed by end of 12th. teeth chattering shivering

#it wouldn't be too bad if i was doing analysis of a novel or smthn bc i can use my own thoughts #but i'm focusing on medieval period and a form of devotion which i'm not familiar with so #every line pretty much has to be derived from sources #i only use my own brain to reword and to connect concepts together... #self #idek what else to write for this essay i have no direction #i don't have a thesis or conclusion at all. i'm just giving random info about the rosary