#look he's hugging his son

[nightwingsgirlfriend]

the babies (dick grayson & bruce wayne) (please don't flop this took a stupid amount of time) (i used a different pen and im not a fan switch back to my bae 😒) (i looove dick grayson as robin)

[whumpypepsigal]

“I will stand with you between the heavens and the earth. I will tell you where you are.”

[borgialucrezia]

It's so bittersweet that Juan was the only one who felt Cesare's constant pain, and he was glad he found something to relate to with his brother, with a relieved smile. He found solace in the fact that he could empathize with him as he endured pain all the time as well, albeit for different reasons. I wonder if he ever knew whether Cesare's suffering stemmed from being trapped in a cardinal's robe and not having a career as a soldier. Also, you can see the frustration and conflict on Cesare's face, as if he doesn't want to kill his brother but he has to since Juan became a liability and would eventually bring the family down with him, especially after Juan's descent into addiction, illness, and madness. Cesare is driven by the desire to preserve the family and because he wanted Juan's undeserved position as a Gonfaloniere. All in all, these two tormented brothers were trapped in their father's vicious cycle of favoritism and ambitions, which caused the tragic ending of their brotherhood when they could have been brothers in arms.

[saryasy]

in a scene full of hauntingly poignant lines, "Well you are the adult in the situation" remains the most maddening to me.

It's easy to see and understand things when you're not the one in them. Weston says to not call his dad and Eddie sees this for what it is. anger at the absence. fear at getting his heart broken again when his dad inevitably doesn't show up. but he understands. he understands that Weston still wants his dad there. that it'd be good for him if he were. so he pushes his dad to go see his son, even if he was uninvited

but when it comes to him? the adult in his own situation with Christopher? he pulls back. despite on some level understanding that the anger is a facade hiding hurt

[storyshark2005]

the way Philly Carragher's face lighting up when he sees (his future son-in-law) Gary Neville

[coldforestnight]

Guess what movie I watched for Father's Day btw.

[the-spam-specialist]

Ragatha and Kinger "fighting" over who gets to hug Caine only to look over and see Caine hugging Pomni instead.

Alternatively, Kinger and Ragatha take turns hugging Caine to see who can get his eyes to dilate the most. Only for them both to lose to Pomni.

[vaguely-concerned]

kill me

(*wobbly tearstained voice* this is father & son richard plantagenet in henry vi part 3 1983 dir jane howell btw. which is. extremely good)

[astaticworld]

actually can't get the scene of jace hugging rhaenyra out of my head

[thescribblings]

I have drawn my son hugging my other son

My life is complete

My inner child has been healed

I no longer need therapy

This is magical

Have nice day

[jackshiccup]

hiccup is so friend shaped :(

[megatraven]

it's been so long since i rewatched the Unsaid Emily episode of JATP but holy, shit does it still hit so fucking hard

when luke's hiding in the bushes outside of his parents' house because he misses them- misses his mother- and regrets the way he ran off, but was too proud to apologize. and maybe too full of guilt and regret to come back before he did what he set out to do.

but he missed her and she missed him and he wrote an entire song about it and his band sang it together and im just 😭😭😭😭

maybe after his band played at the orpheum he would have gone back. maybe he could have gone back and said "look! i did it! im sorry for leaving but i did it! can i come home now?"

maybe that would have been enough to start mending the gap

maybe they would have had a chance to play more than one song, and maybe the second would have been Unsaid Emily, and maybe she would have known. maybe she would have been standing by the door waiting for him to come back.

but he dies, and the song is lost for twenty years, and his mother never knew that he was so sorry or that he even thought about her after running away, not until julie.

he gets the chance to finally say everything he always meant to say to her, he gets to see his mother read his old words and read the love in them.

im nearly sobbing from this scene again it's so fucking good. so powerful.

[olivesjaw]

[angelsdean]

Jack: Yeah, he-he wasn't all bad, my dad. Uh, that's what makes our parents loom so large in our heads, I think. They're… a million things to us all at once.

And even after they're long gone, we're stuck with them. Can't help it. They're inside of us. You know, my whole life, I promised myself I'd be nothing like him, but…I ended up just like him.

Kevin: No, Dad. You're way better than him.

Jack: Thank you, my son. And you're gonna be way better than me.

— 5x07, This Is Us

[anxiously-sidequesting]

So I once made a funny shit post about the Young Wizard actually beaming to the Spiral at the tender age of 45 but it got me thinking of the opposite. What if the Wizard was incredibly young

Since in the game it isn't specified at what exact age we arrived in the Spiral I think it's just up to the player to come up with that part. I personally like to think The Wizard was around 7 or 8 when this happened but what if they were actually like four or five years old

Like shieeeet that's young enough where we wouldn't really remember our time on Earth very clearly right? Our family and maybe our friends but unless we had like ungodly memory powers, we wouldn't be able to remember all of the details of our original home. Like isn't it proven that human beings first gain self and special awareness at 3 or 4? Something like that

And this can open up for some sweet scenarios - little kid Wizard running up to Malorn with a scribbled drawing of him with a big smile on his face, or us and Ceren reading picture books together or clinging onto Nolan's robes as we attempt to stand on his feet as he walks like a penguin, but there's also this sad and messed up undertone that in this universe Ambrose took what was essentially a child just out of toddler stage and decided to keep them in the Spiral instead of returning them to their family

And like imagine how that would affect us. We would see it as normal at first because we grew up in the Spiral, we spent more years in the wizard world than in our home on Earth, but what if the Wizard gained awareness later on in life and actually realized what happened. Would they even care at that point because the Spiral was integrated in them at such a young age? Would they feel any yearning towards their original family, would they miss them at all? Would the Wizard be bitter about not getting to know them?

It's different when you're 7 - 10 and onwards because at that stage in your life you've more than gotten used to Earth life. You've gained awareness and it has been emotionally and mentally established that THIS (Earth) is your home. You know your parents and you know your friends and you know your environment. You will miss that when it's gone and feel it's absence because you're old enough to at least notice when you're taken away from it. But when you're still at that impressionable and oblivious stage of like 4 - 6 years old? The Spiral is all you know now. Your parents faces will be blurry, you may not even remember the details of what your home looked like. You may remember certain smells, colors or feelings you experienced when you were on Earth but that may be about it. And the saddest part about that is depending on what Ambrose and the other adults put our Wizard through, we may grow to completely forget even those essential memories. That Earth part of us would TOTALLY be gone and that would include even our parents (or other caretakers). I'm crying actually

[lordgrimwing]

Foundlings #01

“Hello,” Nerdanel said softly to the boy sitting on the dinner table, his torn pants rolled up past his knees so she could clean the scrapes and cuts on his legs. “I’m Nerdanel. What’s your name?”

He had a tangled mess of dark brown hair, twigs and leaves sticking out from where they’d gotten tangled. His twin—so perfectly identically there could be no mistaking it—looked no better as he clung to Maedhors, held protectively in her eldest son’s arms.

“Elros,” The one in front of her said in a tiny voice roughened from whatever he’d gone through in the forest.

“Hello, Elros,” She set a wooden bowl half-full of warm water on the table next to him, then held up one of the soft green hand towels Fëanor wove last winter. “I’m going to clean up all these cuts and put a salve on that will help you feel better.”

“Elrond’s hurt worse,” The boy protested weakly, pointing one trembling finger at the drying blood on his brother’s face from a cut on his forehead. “I’m okay.” His voice shook almost as much as his hand.

“He’ll be okay, too,” She assured, dipping the cloth in the water and dabbing away the mud and blood on his shins. 

Liquid welled up in his eyes.

“Does it hurt too much?” She asked, softening her touch still further though she was already being as gentle as she would be with a newborn lamb or goat kid.

“Where’s our mom and dad?” he asked instead, tears forming tracks in the dirt on his face. 

That, she could not answer save to spare a glance up at her son. He shook his head slightly, either not knowing or not wanting to say until the twins were safely taken care of and tucked into a bed to rest. She feared the worst. They all heard the unnatural wind howling through the trees last night.

“You don’t worry about that right now,” She settled on, scooping two fingers into a jar of pungent, brown ointment. “You’re safe now. Just let the grown-ups worry about all that.”

He flinched when she wiped the numbing salve into the largest cut just under his right knee. She murmured soothing words to him as she worked.

As she finished, Caranthir came over with two mugs of tea made from the roots and bark of several useful plants she harvested every fall. He’d sweetened the drink with honey to hide the bitter taste for children, though he’d refrained from adding goat milk as she’d directed. Milk sometimes reduces the tea’s somnolescent properties. 

“Here you go,” She said, passing the mug to the young boy’s hands. “I want you to drink all of this while I take care of your brother. Can you do that for me?”

“Okay,” He whispered, raising it to his lips and sipping the warm drink.  

Outside, the sun sank down through the trees, casting a rose gold light across the land.

Fëanor paced in front of his second son, sitting on the step just outside the kitchen door so he could go in quickly if he was needed for something. Besides the two of them and the wandering chickens, the yard was deserted, everyone else away and busy: Celegorm left two days before to hunt an elk at Nerdanel’s request; Caranthir, Amrod, and Amras went into town; and Curufin took his son to catch fish for dinner. Fëanor’s skin itched at having them all so far apart.

“Where did you find them?” Fëanor asked, rubbing a twisted wood and hair figure between the fingers of his right hand to block unnatural ears from listening to the conversation.

It would watch the homestead closely for any sign of the children his sons stole from it. The scrutiny would wane eventually, but until then they must be extra vigilant in keeping it at bay. He’d need to make sure everyone remembered to wear their amulets and keep their talismans close to hand. Celebrimbor, especially, needed to be careful; small as he was he might easily be lured away. Fëanor clutched the figure tighter.

“About an hour passed Lone Lark peak,” Maglor reported. “We found them just before dawn and rode as hard as we dared to get back here.”

The slopes near Lone Lark were steep, with ample loose slate to send any unwary traveler tumbling down the mountain. 

Fëanor looked to the north, toward that spot, though there was no way to see it from this side of their mountain. Not so close then, but close enough for it to find them if it wanted the children. 

“We didn’t find their parents,” His son continued, his slim shoulders falling. “But I’m sure they’re dead.”

“Why?” He asked sharply. He had to know everything so he could keep the family safe.

Maglor looked up from the grass blade he’d been tearing into thin strips. “Mae found what’s left of the camp. It looked like a bear or a panther attacked them: shredded tent, claw marks on trees, a lot of blood. I can’t guess how those boys escaped and got all the way to Lone Lark.”

“No, no, don’t you see?” Fëanor asked, taking his son by the shoulders, one hand half clasped around the figurine. “Have I not taught you to recognize this? This is Its doing!”

The presence lurking in the trees finally struck again. 

“Whatever spared those boys, fate or luck or some greater power, it will come looking for them.”

A terrible feeling deep in his gut told him this was only the beginning of a great and dreadful awakening. 

Maglor’s mouth fell open.

“Did you do anything to hide your path back here? Tie mugwart to the horses’ feet? Burn vervain so the ashes fell before you?” He asked. 

“No,” Maglor whispered.

“You led it straight here!” Nowhere was safe or totally free from the creature’s reach, but he’d rather it didn’t know exactly where to come looking to finish them off. If the children saw it, it would surely be here soon, seeking to devour them entirely after that small taste. If only his sons hadn’t found them, or else had the sense to ward off any attention before bringing the foundlings home. He had only one choice now.

He unsheathed the sharp knife he kept on his belt.

Maglor stood suddenly, arms out, blocking the door. “Stop, Pa.” He commanded, his gentle voice turning hard. “They’re children. What are you doing?”

Fëanor raised the black knife and pointed it at his son. “Your hair,” He snapped.

“My hair?” The younger elf repeated, teetering on confusion as he realized he may have been hasty in his assumption of ill intent.

“Yes, I need it. Maedhros’ too—and the boys’.” He reached for his son’s long black hair as he spoke. “We saved Celegorm. We’ll save them, too.”

He failed Fingolfin, so many years ago. He wouldn’t let it claim these children too, not now that he’d learned so much.

Maglor untied his hair and bowed his head to Feanor’s blade.

“Something to obscure them, first.” He continued, the pattern and weave appearing in his mind. “Bind you four together to confuse its senses. You’ll need to wear the talismans at all times until I can weave them into the family’s protections.”

He took a handful of hair and severed it near the roots, then wound it several times around his hand, catching the wooden figure under the strands to keep it pressed to his skin. 

“I’ll start tonight, with the stars at their brightest.” He could not finish until Celegorm came back and he could take fresh hair from him, too. There was no telling how long that would be, but of all his sons, his third had the keenest senses for the terrible presence haunting the mountains. He may already be riding back toward the safety of their home.

Maglor opened the kitchen door for him, and they went inside. He quickly claimed what he needed from Maedhros and the two drowsy boys sitting on the table.