#like sir what are you doing

[here-comes-the-moose]

I can’t get over how for a good chunk of Season 3 Crosshair is trying to convince Omega, his brothers, and himself that he’s a bad guy and should be left behind, allowed to sacrifice himself, etc. and the whole time all anyone is seeing is this:

[alicent-archive]

Does anyone remember how deeply unserious Criston looked with his little fuck ass hat?

[zeroalexandro]

So- yeah, "Dangerous" got me dancing and shouting and cheering the whole song, and yes, I pretty much didn't see a single shit during neither "I'm not sorry for loving you", "Get in the water" or the first part of "Six hundred strike" 'cause my tears were all over mi faces and ofc the whole: "How will you slept at night?" "Next to my wife" was the most badass shit I have seeing in a really long while-

BUT can we talk about the comeback of some lyrics like- I know how the fact that some phrases and melodies gets repeated in a future occasion, BUT THE MOMENTS THEY CHOOSE???? Like- you have Ody thanking Hermes again just for Hermes strike with a: "Don't thank me friend" again???

Don't get me started with the begging of "Dangerous" and the comeback of "Full Speed Ahead" and the painfully silence that that part is- 'cause bro why???

And that moment- that moment when Poseidon says: Now you'll never get back; and Ody just turn to see him and the freaking music changes to the begging of "Different Beast" like- bro??? Talk me about that please???

Look- Idk what Jorge does for having such immaculate timing and devilish mind to create the most heartbreaking and breathtaking but I need him to both never stop and also have some compassion 'cause my heart it is not going to survive at this rate

[icewaterforicequeen]

Lena the "housekeeper"

Before Kendra arrives at Fablehaven, we see her internal monologue theorizing that maybe Grandpa Sorenson is secretly divorced and that's why Ruth is never around.

Then Kendra gets to the house and finds out that her grandfather has an unrelated pretty old lady living in the same house as him. I mean, it turned out innocent, but I would have had some *thoughts*

[shadow-bagel]

i absolutely hate, despise, detest, and loathe slow burn fics (affectionate)

[ameliaenya404]

Hawks would lie about his height on dating apps I just know he would.

[pleasesetmywagononfire]

Anyone else’s theatre teachers make the whole class lay on the floor in the dark and then try to hypnotize yall?

[artkaninchenbau]

A h-heartfelt reunion..?

Bonus

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

We all know the semi-canonical ‘all the Robins know to hide/duck inside of Batman’s cape, even as adults’ thing.

We also know that Danny ‘is LITERALLY a ghost’ Fenton sucks at remembering his own intangibility while ALSO forgetting to look ahead of him.

All I’m saying is, Danny Fenton (or Phantom, if you’d really like) would absolutely SLAM into Batman on accident while running on roof tops and Bruce ‘Brooding Instinct’ Wayne doesn’t even think twice about letting the kid hide and scanning around for danger before there’s a record scratch of ‘wait who tf is this?’ kicks in.

[musubiki]

balor 🥰

[lalluviadeanoche]

Merlin *on four hrs of sleep for the past week, dirty from a fight, definitely has a concussion and at least two untreated injuries, one of which he’s bleeding out from, leans over on someone’s shoulder*: Arthur has no idea I have magic!

Arthur *still blushing from Merlin leaning on him and is now very confused w his emotions*: YOU HAVE MAGIC?!

Merlin: oh… sorry.

Merlin *moves to Lancelot’s shoulder*: Arthur has no idea I have magic!

Arthur: I can still hear you!! You’re right next to me and you’re yelling!!

The knights:… you didn’t know??

[n0ahsferatu]

my dear friend @marlenacantswim asked me to draw the TOS yaoi polycule and i want you to know this is what the whole show is like to me

[shotmrmiller]

forcing your presence onto simon late at night because insomnia and a cup of tea always helps, or so they say, but you were taught better than to not offer others some but now the steaming cup is just sitting on the table to cool while you carefully sip on yours.

he doesn't look at it, you, nothing. keeps his eyes fixed on whatever he's doing, maybe cleaning his gun or something. fine. what matters is that you did your part.

and it eventually becomes routine. every night, like clockwork, he's darkening a corner in the coffee room and you've got a kettle warming. and every night, he ignores everything in his peripheral.

until he doesn't. it starts slow. you're already headed for the door, hand covering your yawn when he picks up the mug and takes a sniff. then, it's the tiniest sip, as if it's got teeth. come morning, the mug you used and his are clean, drying on a dish mat.

the following night, he waits for you to put it on the table before grabbing it. "you've a shit hand," he mutters. "left to steep too long. more bitter than the cigars price smokes."

okay. bastard. the next pot is too bland. calls it dog water. but he drinks all of it just the same. little to no sugar, splash of milk. the stare he leveled your way when he added milk could've destroyed the block.

"secrets safe with me, lieutenant. swear it."

unless he's tearing your ego into tatters with his scathing tea critique, he says nothing else. listens well enough, though. maybe. his eyes look blank most of the time. but he lets you ramble without interruption about nonsensical stuff; your day, your job, soap being the usual nuisance.

it's nice.

and then you fall ill. nothing water and cocooning yourself with your bedsheets for a day or three can't fix.

but then there's a very violent knocking on your door, hard enough to rattle it in its hinges, flaring the already painful throbbing that sits behind your eyes. no matter how hard you try to tell them to piss off, they don't.

"open the door."

now you've got a 6'2+ man barreling into your bedroom, turning his unnerving gaze your way. his eyes flick to your runny nose, chapped lips and wrinkled sleeping clothes.

"you're sick." brilliant observation. truly a man worth his sniper position.

"yes. i'm quite-" your words come to settle behind your clenched teeth as you watch him dig into his front pockets and pull out crinkled tea bags. and open your cabinets because now you're the visitor and he the (g)host.

you'd rather drink battery acid than another one of his brews. it made your eyes prick with tears, burned as it went down, warmed your chest. it was lukewarm when you drank it.

(he clears up a space on your foot table, and by clear up i mean use an arm to shove everything off the edge so he can continue to clean his weapons. has your couch always been that small?)

[martyrbat]

batman and harley quinn #4

harvey singing duets at random karaoke bars is actually so dear to me....

[ananxiousgenz]

noel: *starts talking about the horrifying, manipulative ruler of the dreamlands, the Great Old One Who Will Drive You Mad*

arthur, john, and the entire audience:

[dnpg-hiatus-survivor]

the hard launch was actually when dan said he couldnt wear dangly earrings because phil is “clumsy” 🤨