#love you grandpa

[apples-areyummy]

Guys, Is my grandpa the best or what?

20 count of the GIGANTE MAZAPÁNS

When he went to Mexico because he works there he got me this and I'm in love

THANK YOU GRANDPAAAAA LOVE YOUUUUUU

[wildfaeworld]

Today would have been my Grandpa's birthday.

"I've got it right here in my kidney," he'd say when asked if he'd remember this or that, tapping his head.

"Pew, pew!" he'd yell, feigning exaggerated disgust at the smell of soap on our hands when checking that we'd washed them for dinner.

He taught us how to jump rope and how to hit a baseball. We caught our first fish in the pond just outside the back door. At Christmas, there was a house in the community that built a miniature village in their yard, complete with a model train running through little tunnels and cloudlike false snowdrifts. We'd ride our bikes to go look at it every year.

He watched Jeopardy every afternoon at 4pm. When we were there I'd watch with him, and I know now that he let me answer first, but the confidence he gave me has remained a steady warmth through the years.

He was a jokester, a pun-maker, a dancer, a juggler. He loved to sing. I'd feel his baritone in his chest when we hugged. He kept polka tapes in the car until they stopped making cars with tape players in them.

His football team was the Vikings, and most of his sweatshirts were purple for them, or green for his college colors. We wore his colors proudly even though none of us follow sports the way he did, because they were his more than they were a team's or a school's.

He got a little shorter, near the end. Had to give up hiking. His baseball caps protected thinning skin from sunburn where he used to sport a full head of white hair.

Now, his smile is mine to keep in photographs on my wall. He's so handsome in his high school graduation picture, wearing a suit and tie with his hair styled so carefully in the neatness men favored then. On the verge of adulthood, he watches my grandma in her prom dress so fondly. In black and white (this was before color photographs had made it to their small town on the Canadian border) surrounded by family, he and Grandma look so proud of themselves on the doorstep of their first house.

It's been six years. I wish I could hug him one more time. Today I'll remember him, and remember that grief is just love with no place to go.

[gobbythegoblin]

It was snowing recently, and after me and my mom were done shoveling the snow of the driveway, I decided to make a snowman.

This is Jeff, my very first snowman. Named after my grandpa. (mom's dad) I had a lot of fun making this guy.

Hey grandpa, if you can somehow see this, I miss you. And if we ever see each other again, let's share some oreos. Maybe share some stories, real or imaginary, it doesn't matter.

What do you say old man?

[icedteaffee]

I adopted Kapp’n as my virtual, stand-in emotional support grandpa when my grandpa passed away tbh ❤️ it warms my heart up, remembering him so fondly. Definitely a samoan old man vibe.

[killdaisie]

sky after my grandpas burial, june 29 2023

[summerdazed]

Top 5 yaoi no one escapes

Blood Link

I became the lousy side top

tales of the golden dragon (i think?)

royal servant

whatever 69 has going on with alhacen

[di-girls-dem-sugar]

can we talk about how nice colonel potter's smile is???? his teeth are so straight and white, hes so pretty when he smiles

[turtlebluem]

I think one of the saddest things that can happen is listening to your older relative send you an audio message singing happy birthday and realizing something is missing, and then realizing it's because they're alone, and suddenly it's just

There's something missing

A void of something that you got used to

They're alone

[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.

[shakes-writes]

Herb Alpert AKA my grandpa’s tunes giving me the inspo for this story 💜

[greenvertumna]

My grandpa has been dead for over six months but today I was making myself some mushroom ravioli, which was his favorite, so I kept thinking “oh I’ll save this recipe and make it for him” and then kept remembering “oh right.”

[thoughts-of-alaina]

It's been 9 years since my grandpa died and ten years since I last celebrated his birthday when he was alive. I hate Cinco de Mayo. Not because of the holiday but because it reminds me it's my grandpa's birthday every year. I cannot forget it's May 5. I am reminded every year. I miss him. I may have been young when he passed but it still hurt to see him go.

He passed away on Nov 27, 2014, on Thanksgiving day. Thanksgiving was his favorite holiday. He loved watching the Cowboys play on Thanksgiving and sipping on an ice-cold Dr. Pepper.

One of my favorite memories of my grandpa is when he took my brother and I to my family's hometown. We went to visit my great aunt Martha.

I only meet her once but she is such a loving person and it'll be a sad day when she passes. It'll likely be soon because of her dementia...

When my grandpa took us he still had his work truck. My brother and I loved that truck. It was massive to us when we were kids. It was hard for my mom to sell it. I lost my Princess Peach game in that truck during the road trip. It was such a good game.

I have such fond memories of that trip. Between the nice ranch, my Great Aunt Martha lived in with her old grandfather clock and her dozens of stray barnyard cats.

My baby brother was named after him. I feel bad he'll never have those experiences with our grandpa. He will only ever have our grandma. It's just the 5 of us now in my family. I'm not close to my uncles or cousins. I wouldn't even invite them to my wedding because of how distant we are.

I sometimes wish I had a big family. I love the family I have but... It would be nice to have more.

[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)

[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.”