#I’m just emotional about it all

[sluttyten]

I didn’t need to cry today, but I just watched the first 2 episodes of NCT 127: The Lost Boys and like it all has me emotional, but nothing more than Haechan’s part

[shorthaltsjester]

watching the sdcc panel and i am just very :) about how sweet their answers to “what are some of the micro moments from the game that have stuck with you the most over the years?” are. taliesin saying what the fuck is up with that which was the first like The Party Gets To Know Each Other moments of c3. travis saying asking his wife if he could kiss her in campaign. marisha going way back to the cannonball competition in campaign one. ashley choosing the beauyasha date but also just the silly goat noise matt made. liam adding onto that to compliment matt roleplaying grass so well and then saying his favourite moment was writing a story for laura and reading it to her as caleb for jester. and then matt saying that was his answer, and that his favourite moments of the game are when they find ways to give gifts to each other whether tangible or not. and sam saying his favourite moments have less to do with the story and is more so when he can just. see his friends across the table from him. when marisha perches and when laura and ashley are (badly) drawing dicks and liam saying he loves when sam sneezes and ashley tells him to stop it and just. yeah. they Are an extremely popular online powerhouse, but i’m so happy that they’re also friends building a world together out of gifts to and love for one another.

like i Am so enamoured with the characters and the world of exandria but the moments when you can feel the love that those people have for each other reach out from behind the stained glass of their performances (to steal a metaphor from brennan lee mulligan) are so extremely special and i am endlessly grateful that they decided to share their silly little home game with the world.

[ehhgg-art]

thank you red vs blue. you were the greatest show ever, of all time.

[ewwww-what]

friendship so strong it grants you a sixth level spell slot. I have words to say.

[bit-odd-innit]

Eddie who cries a lot, Eddie who cries openly and easily and unabashedly, Eddie who cries not only when he’s upset but also when he’s frustrated or happy or full of some overwhelming cocktail of positive and negative emotions, Eddie who cries so often the kids are used to it vs. Steve who has not cried in years, Steve who has endured countless horrors and unfathomable physical trauma, Steve who puts his body on the line time and time again and has never broken once, Steve who shatters a glass on his kitchen floor—not even a nice glass, just a plain drinking glass, he was getting juice for Erica—and inexplicably bursts into tears, and it’s so unexpected and so jarring that everyone starts crying and nobody knows why.

[blackbatcass]

listen I know it’s kind of corny and inaccurate to act like every single person in the dc universe knows each other and is besties but it IS endlessly funny to me to follow the web of connections and see how many degrees removed from each other everyone is.

like look at the arrowfam okay. ollie and dinah are together, ollie is homoerotic best friends with hal, dinah is homoerotic best friends with babs. roy is dating dick, has a kid with jade, and is basically an adoptive father to both grant emerson and rose wilson. connor is dating kyle and is constantly followed around by eddie fyers. mia is friends with a lot of the second gen teen titans kids, had an on-again-off-again thing going on with steph for a while, and is currently dating sienna. emiko is besties with courtney and some of the other recent teen titans. sin has a small army of protective aunts from the birds of prey. the real question is how far does it go before ollie puts a cap on the number of people who are invited to family brunch on sundays

[unknownarmageddon]

intertwined forever

Cross belongs to Jael Peñaloza Killer belongs to Rahafwabas

[fandomfairyuniverse]

Joke says I love you like he thinks it’s the last time he’ll ever get to say it meanwhile Jack says I love you like he believes he’ll get to say it every day for the rest of his life. And I am very normal about this. By the way

[thecryptidbard]

ALSO can we talk about Hetty’s reaction after Flower tells her “You’re a good friend”???

Think about where she was at this point last year—having also just revealed a massive secret, one that almost irrevocably ruined one of her oldest friendships. She’d admitted in Ghost Court that friends were not something she’d ever had in life—something she hasalso just reiterated moments ago to Sam and Isaac, that one of the reasons she felt so trapped and alone and without options at the end of her life was because she had no friends.

Think about how far we’ve seen her come; in season one, it’s huge growth for her that after Jay’s possession, she admits to the other ghosts that she missed them. Or season two, how in a very un-Hetty move she’s willing to swallow her pride and apologize to Nigel (even though she’s sure she isn’t in the wrong!) for the sake of saving her friendship with Isaac. Or even earlier this season, how closely she’s clinging to Alberta in so many of the episodes, because she’s so grateful she got her friend back after being so close to losing her that she doesn’t even want to be physically separated from her.

And then now, she’s just once again revealed a secret she’s kept for well over a hundred years, in order to save Flower. She’s kept this part of herself from everyone for so long, and the very second she sees that Flower is securely out of the hole, she turns her back to everyone to gather herself and then bolts.

Isaac and Sam make her see that, yes objectively she has people here for her now like she never had in life, but Flower coming in and thanking her is when she actually gets to see and experience the reality of how different her existence is now. “You’re a good friend,” she says, and it might be the first time someone has ever said that to her. And Hetty just looks up at Flower so surprised in that moment, and so heartbreakingly hopeful, because I genuinely think that until right then, she really hadn’t considered it like that before; she just knew that Flower was in trouble and that she had to help her whatever the personal cost, because not saving her wasn’t even an option.

So much of the ghosts’ relationships, especially early on, were transactional, and, especially in Hetty’s case, built around enforcing particular power dynamics: accruing a wealth of back rubs, extorting Pete’s TV time before signing Elias’s contract, or any of the countless occasions she brought up her status as ‘lady of the house’. So the fact that she makes this sacrifice that feels like a loss of power to her is in and of itself big; but Flower acknowledging that, and making sure Hetty herself sees it too, by calling her a good friend—it’s a whole different level of meaningful.

She doesn’t just thank Hetty. She makes sure that she sees what her actions mean to her. And Hetty is so taken aback by it, because Flower saying this to her and meaning it is a gift she was absolutely unprepared for; a “good friend” is not something Hetty has ever known herself to be, up until now. But she very badly wants for it to be true.

[misc-obeyme]

This stupid event making me feel things while also being wayyy too cheesy and over the top. Ah there were some absolute gems though. Screenshots below the cut because spoilers.

Okay I just can’t with some of these idiots.

MC being the one to bring Satan home after he gets angry and runs away 😭

Diavolo always having to be in Prince mode except when he’s with MC 😭

Bonus because MC asks him if he thought Barbatos noticed when he snuck away with MC. I just think it’s cute that he’s so delusional 🥹

MC being the only one who sees this guy’s struggle (or who he allows to see it) 😭

NOOOOOO MY HEART. MC reminding Solomon of his humanity I’m unwell 😭😭

And now for the best one because of course I lost my mind when Barbatos brought MC to his own room. I know Lucifer did too but Barb did it first!

YEAH 'cause I'm expecting you to tell me you love me!!

Look at how serious he gets...

... and then that sweet subtle smile...

HE KEEPS THE SHELF A SECRET. 😭😭😭

Excuse me I’m just gonna go pass away now. 🪦

These feelings are enough for me to overlook those doofy hats even. Why do they insist on hats they look so silly no matter who wears them.

[rooolt]

every so often I have to take an extended moment to ponder canon gothcleats and I am bowled over by the emotions that overcome me at the thought of them

[suja-janee]

My overall analysis on Sektor and Bi-Han’s relationship and how I still think a Bi han redemption is possible.

If you don’t wanna read all this let me know, I’ll give you a summary

[recareels]

getting emotional over the fact that mr reca really would guide you, just as a good director is supposed to, but would still retain the authority to make executive decisions if he felt your choices were not beneficial to your film (life) or your growth as an actor (person)

[clowningcrows]

hot take i guess but when i watch the scene with billy and agatha where she finds out for sure he’s billy maximoff and starts tearing up, i perceive it as being bc she’s still a bit (read: significantly) heartbroken that he isn’t nicky. he isn’t hers. sure, she might’ve known from the beginning to some degree that he was wanda’s, but she doesn’t know for sure. we see that every time she panics because he’s hurt. we see that in the way she refused to leave his side when he was asleep. we see that when rio herself has to shake agatha out of it, saying, “agatha… that boy isn’t yours.” like YES logically i think she knew he wasn’t nicky, that he couldn’t be but we CAN see how painfully, hopelessly desperate agatha is to think that maybe he could be. so in my mind, she sees billy maximoff standing in front of her, finally being met with indisputable proof that he could not possibly be her lost son. how could she not tear up at that?

[whaliiwatching]

gradual closing of the gap

[flowercrowngods]

The Last Day.

Steve doesn’t remember what drove him here — he doesn’t remember a lot of things lately, not that he’s mentioned that to anyone. They don’t really question these things anymore. Fucky vision, nightmares without sleeping, or things that just get lost in the everyday grind of remembering to do normal things like eat or drink or where the fuck he put his glasses.

So, he doesn’t remember what drove him here, if he was supposed to get something or if he just needed to get out of the gym, needed to breathe some air that’s not filled with anxiety and grief and the pressure of survivor’s guilt and why and how and when around every corner, behind every door, underneath every donated item and in every bite of stale peanut butter sandwiches.

The library was never a place of comfort for him, and he honestly never really cared about it one war or another. If pressed for it, he couldn’t name five books in all of these shelves. He never really looked.

But now, in the semi-darkness, the empty shelves are somehow daunting. All useful books were taken, children’s books donated to all the families that stayed, all science books stolen by people who were sure they could fix this, could get behind this, could build generators and water refineries and all that shit.

Somehow, the negative space in these shelves draws him in, and he takes a deep breath. A breath that Dustin would like, probably. It smells like books. It smells old. It smells like, somehow, somewhere, there might still be a constant in this world. Something that will remain. Like maybe there will always be a library that smells of old books. No matter how often the world will end.

It’s a strange thought. But comforting. He trails the shelves, not really looking at the books, walking too fast still to make out the titles in the dim light, but he refuses to stop. He refuses to stand. To linger.

The next two rows are completely empty, and it makes him shiver. Robin probably has a name for the feeling. Maybe melancholy. Or maybe he’s just haunted. Susceptible to absence.

Or maybe they’re the same feeling.

Blindly, he reaches for a book, because his hands begin to tingle and he really needs something to do before his lungs catch up and his brain finds out that he’s somehow almost about to panic, or to relapse, or to drop to the floor if his legs don’t regain feeling soon.

He keeps walking, the book in hand. It’s a slim edition, bound in leather, and it feels really old. Looks like it, too.

Michael Bruce

He carefully flips it open, the old paper crackling with the movement, and he wonders briefly if this is the part of the library that’s usually watched like a hawk, the part where you’re not allowed to touch the books without supervision and certainly not without reason. Maybe. Maybe this Michael Bruce hasn’t seen a real face in a long time.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to find out that they’re mostly poems—and of course they are, old books are almost always filled with poems.

He opens the book at a random page, still needing to settle his hands, his heart, his mind. The title makes his heart drop. “The Last Day.”, it’s called; still his eyes glide over the lines, intrigued.

Twas on an autumn's eve, serene and calm. I walked, attendant on the funeral Of an old swain : around, the village crowd Loquacious chatted, till we reach'd the place Where, shrouded up, the sons of other years Lie silent in the grave. The sexton there Had digg'd the bed of death, the narrow house, For all that live, appointed. To the dust We gave the dead. Then moralizing, home The swains return'd, to drown in copious bowls The labours of the day, and thoughts of death.

Okay. Sure. So, maybe this Michael Bruce dude is not the best company when the world is sort of ending. But somehow Steve can’t stop reading, and for the first time he kind of doesn’t want to stop reading a poem. This one’s different anyway. This one just… it gets him.

Images of Barb flood his mind. Eddie. Chrissy. Max. Everyone who was lost, everyone who has an empty coffin in their grave and an NDA penned to their name.

To the dust We gave the dead.

The labours of the day, and thoughts of death.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to go back out there. Head to the gym and fold clothes and check the missing posters and make phone calls to find out, to make sure, to keep in touch. The labours of the day. The thoughts of death.

Shaking hands flip the pages, two at once, because he doesn’t want to live the last day; doesn’t want to hear about it. He needs to know how it ends, needs to make sure, needs to find out, just—

A pause ensued. The fainting sun grew pale, And seem'd to struggle through a sky of blood : While dim eclipse impaird his beam : the earth Shook to her deepest centre : Ocean rag'd, And dash'd his billows on the frighted shore. All was confusion. Heartless, helpless, wild.

Suddenly, what little light was left to stream through the windows disappears, stealing the words from beneath his eyes, and before he can look up and breathe, the door to the library bursts open, revealing a panicked Robin.

“Steve?”

“Robbie?”

“You… You better come see this.”

He hears it in her voice. The resignation. Oceans raging as the fainting sun grows pale. Confusion. Helpless, heartless, wild.

He closes Michael Bruce and runs toward her on numb legs, not ready to find out about the new apocalypse he’s gonna find outside the library. And seeing black skies through the windows and pale faces behind them, reflecting against the growing darkness, he wonders if he shouldn’t have skipped through the last day. The Last Day.

Terror in every look, and pale affright Sat in each eye ; amazed at the past, And for the future trembling.

Steve, too, is trembling. And Robin’s hand in his is shaking just as much.

Poetical works of Michael Bruce : with life and writings. William Stephen ed. 1895.