my sister recorded hoseok giving me a hand heart kiss (i was 2 distracted by this literal angel to even try to record it) and let me tell u he shines a million times brighter in real life and will save ur life by just looking into ur eyes i was a broken down mess after this i have waited 10000000 years
Rhysand gave his life to repair the cauldron, not expecting to be brought back. He let his magic and life drain away to save the woman he loved and the world she lived in, held on in death because she begged him to stay-
- and even in the midst of all that he still reached out and brought Amren back.
It was not the way he expected it to go down. Which, honestly, was rather impressive because in the past two years of their partnership Chat Noir must have plotted out at least 50 different possible scenarios in which he finally heard the coveted words.
They had been joking around, legs swinging off the edge of of the parapet and laughing, enjoying the warm breeze.
“Come on, you can’t tell me that your birthday is this week and not let me get you a present,” Chat whined, “what sort of partner would I be.”
“The last thing I need for my birthday is a dead rat on my doorstep,” Ladybug teased as she once again failed to do a Jacob’s ladder with her Yo-yo. She scowled down at her weapon and Chat had to bite back a laugh. There was something incredibly endearing about the fact that for all the truly amazing things she had done with the magical item, she couldn’t seem to get the hang of a simple trick.
“Ah, but you know that I won’t be giving you that, because I don’t know where your doorway is,” Chat grinned, “so your argument against my giving you a gift is invalid.”
She rolled her eyes, but he could see her fighting back a smile.
“Come on,” he whispered, dropping his chin onto her shoulder, “I’ll get you anything you want.”
“Anything?” she asked, twisting her head to look at him and causing their noses to brush together.
“Cross my heart and swear not to die, because I already promised you I wouldn’t after what happened last month.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, her lips twisting into the disapproving pout that had become one of his favorite expressions. Not that he had a lack of those where she was concerned. Still, this particular look of fond annoyance was easily in the top 20.
“Please?” he cajoled, stretching out the vowels like a hopeful child asking for a new toy.
She looked away and Chat smiled. If she couldn’t meet his eyes it meant she was caving.
“If Mayor Bourgeois is allowed to give you a statue, the least I should be allowed to do is get you a birthday present,” he whispered, trying not to fist pump as he saw her bite her lower lip. Victory was almost assured at this point. “Please?” he said again.
“Anything?” she asked hesitantly.
“Anything,” he assured her in the same quiet voice while internally he screamed in triumph. In fact he would probably be annoying Plagg later with his obligatory victory dance.
Ladybug said nothing, continuing to stare out into the night, but Chat had learned patience was the key to these sorts of moods, so he simply waited, his head continuing to lull against her shoulder.
“Yes My Lady?”
“You love me right?”
He felt his breath catch in his throat. He knew she didn’t mean it the way he wanted her to. It was a friendly statement, a joking lead-in to a request that usually meant she was insecure about something. It wasn’t the first time she had said it, but he still couldn’t help but be affected by the words.
“Of course, to the end of my nine lives and beyond,” he said, his tone light despite the rapid pounding of his heart.
“And you won’t make fun of me?” she said, with just enough of a tremor in her voice to belie her playful smile.
“Never. Cat’s honor.”
She took a deep breath and reached her hand up to pull at the collar of her suit.
“What are you doing?” Chat squawked his face turning beet red as her fingers slide beneath the fabric and down towards her collar bone.
She gave him a bemused smirk as she pulled out a carefully folded note, much to Chat’s simultaneous relief and dismay.
“Never figured you for a prude,” she said tapping him on the nose with the paper.
“What is so important that you felt the need to carry it around under your suit?” he grumbled, then instantly regretted his outburst when her shoulders hunched slightly. “Is it a picture of me? Admit it you pull it out to stare at it when I am not around.” He gave her his most salacious smirk and she gave him a playful shove, the momentary flash of doubt replaced with amusement. He mentally high fived himself on the nice save. Another thing to brag to Plagg about when they got home.
“No. It’s a letter.”
“I assume you are either going to elaborate, or you have decided to pursue a lifelong dream of becoming the world’s greatest calligrapher.”
“Never mind, you never did appreciate my sense of humor.”
“It’s a letter for my crush.”
His heart sank.
“It’s stupid,” she said hurriedly, “it’s not even signed. I don’t know what is wrong with me that I can’t even bring myself to give him an anonymous love letter. I stupidly thought that maybe I would get lucky and could run in to him as Ladybug and maybe then I could…” she trailed off with a miserable laugh that broke his heart far worse than her infatuation with someone else.
“It’s horrible,” she cried, scooting back just enough so that she could look at him, “seriously, you have no idea how pathetic I have been.”
“Come on it can’t be that bad.”
“For months I couldn’t even speak a complete sentence in front of him,” she wailed, “much less tell him how I feel!”
“That’s totally normal.”
“Oh, it get’s better. Because I wasn’t just content to make a fool of myself. No then I compensated by getting worse! My room is plastered with pictures of him. I have one framed on my nightstand!”
“You are hardly the first person alive to go overboard about a crush,” Chat said thinking of his own hoard of fangirls that had only increased as he edged closer to adulthood.”
“I wrote down his schedule on my calendar. In detail! Every time I learned something new, up it would go in big swirly cursive with little hearts and everything.”
“OK, that’s admittedly a little weirder,” Chat winced, although he was somewhat amused at the image of her dotting little hearts all over the place, “still it could be-”
“I stole his phone!”
“OK yeah, you’re crazy.”
“I told you. Instead of just confessing to him like a normal person I turned into,” she gestured helplessly at herself, “this.”
“But at least you admit it,” he said kindly. “and if need be I can get you the name of an excellent therapist.”
She gave him a weak smile, and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into a gentle hug.
“I thought if I could just give him this letter, even if he didn’t know it was from me, then I could… I donnow, not move on exactly but, get better, maybe?”
She fiddled with the piece of paper in her hand and somehow, seeing her like this- relaxed and vulnerable, and just a little bit insane- made him love her even more.
Maybe they would never amount to anything. Maybe she would end up with this mystery crush, or the next one. But in that moment Chat knew that he would never regret loving this girl. He would be happy to stay by her side in whatever way she needed him. That would be enough.
“Do you want me to give it to him for you?” he asked, any regret he might have felt vanishing at the hopeful look that sprang to her eyes.
“Of course Bugaboo. Although, if this turns into some sort of wacky rom-com where he thinks that I am the secret admirer and starts chasing after my dazzling good looks and unparalleled charm, you are not allowed to make it my fault.”
“Ok,” she laughed, leaning her head back against his shoulder with a sigh that he could swear reverberated in his very soul.
“So who am I delivering this to anyways?” he asked a little shakily carefully plucking the letter from her and slipping into into the pocket of his suit. “Who is this dashing rogue who has turned you into a literal lovesick schoolgirl?”
“Adrien Agreste,” she confessed with a blush. “I’m in love with Adrien Agreste.”
It was definitely not how he had expected things to go down. Never in a million years would he have dreamed up this scenario when he finally heard the coveted words- his name on her tongue, her voice saying that she loved him, HIM, of all people.
It was not what he expected- but damn if it still wasn’t the greatest moment in his life.
Look who’s back to her 4 word prompts! On to the next one! (Not taking any new ones just finishing up the ones I have.
Miscellaneous Clark Kent headcanons as relate to my little fic universe, that may or may not ever come up because who knows:
Little Clark was really susceptible to childhood superstitions for some reason. He didn’t go under ladders, he did the salt over the shoulder thing, he did not fuck with that Bloody Mary shit like NOPE I’M OUT THIS SLUMBER PARTY IS CANCELED, LANA GET OUT OF MY HOUSE AND TAKE YOUR MURDER GHOSTS WITH YOU. He believes that he is over this as an adult but whenever his foot is about to fall on a crack in the sidewalk it actually stops like a half inch above the ground and hovers there. He does not notice he is doing this. No one notices, ever, because it is the weirdest subtle unconscious thing in the world. At least Martha’s back is safe?
I covered the picky eater thing in Christmas in Kansas but to be more specific his tastebuds are just really sensitive to certain chemical compounds? Not just in terms of things he won’t eat but also in terms of things that he expects to be there and he doesn’t really like foods that lack those things. Your two options to make him eat anything are to cover it in sugar, or cover it in garlic.
He goes through a lot of breathmints. Can you imagine if Superman saved someone and they were like “man i appreciate being alive but he had some really bad garlic breath”? He would be so horrified.
He has a ratty, fucked-up old shirt that he wears whenever he is making pasta with red sauce. Even Superman cannot stand against the ability of red sauce to end up on whatever you happen to be wearing. HE WAS SO CAREFUL THIS TIME, HOW DID A STAIN END UP ON HIS BACK THAT JUST MAKES NO SENSE. Clark Kent’s weaknesses: kryptonite, tomato stains.
His ability to perfectly imitate anyone’s voice was one of the first things to manifest themselves, but this wasn’t the kind of thing anyone noticed was weird. It definitely didn’t seem like a power. He was just a small child who could do a really good Kermit the Frog. He sang Rainbow Connection at a middle school talent show and all the moms cried.
He definitely has a playlist to cheer himself up and get pumped and it has Eye of the Tiger and You’re the Best on it. Probably also half the Top Gun soundtrack.
Clark Kent’s twitter is pretty standard snarky newsman except with more farming memes. No one can tell how ironic the farming memes are. They might not be ironic at all. Clark Kent might be really sincere, or he might just be so ironic that he has circled back around into sincerity. No one knows. He’s also really good at that thing where you retweet two things from a person that side-by-side reveal they are a dingus. I don’t know if there’s a word for that.
His Snapchat is all dogspotting, with occasional rare dance breaks. He’s a pretty good dancer since he found those YouTube tutorials. He does this thing with his hips that Lois finds deeply upsetting for reasons she cannot articulate.
Jimmy asked Clark how he got so fit once and Clark was like “uh, farming. farm. eyup.” But he kept pressing for deets and Clark ended up just telling him that he’d pulled a Milo of Croton??? He lifted a newborn calf over his head and then just did that every single day until he was lifting a cow over his head. Jimmy knows nothing about farming or cows or physical fitness and this seemed plausible enough to him.
He has a blog where he posts rejected articles and it is the wonkiest thing in the entire world because that is why they got rejected. Perry takes one look at these articles and is like “it will take more words than I want to pay you for just to explain the setup for this article and also there are five people total who care, in the world, including you”
He has to be really careful when he buys clothes because he needs to make sure that they aren’t too tight and he has full range of motion. He does not want to relive The Skinny Jeans Incident. Shirts that say ‘I flexed and the sleeves fell off’ are only funny until it happens to you, then they are just horrible reminders. Popped seams everywhere. There is no way to explain that without looking like a huge tool.
Even when Superman has a really shitty day he keeps it together until he gets home, but then he shuts the balcony door and peels off his costume and Clark does the Tina Belcher groan for like ten minutes while he takes a shower because he got covered in sewer mutant or space crab or god knows and UUUUUUUUUUGH. Fortunately the nice older lady in the apartment next door always seems to know when he has had a shitty day and she brings him pie.
She can hear his melodramatic bullshit from over at her place, that’s how she knows. They share a bathroom wall and it practically echoes. If she times it right he will answer the door before he has put a shirt on because he doesn’t want to leave her waiting in the hall. She does not know what his day job is and it definitely does not occur to her that he is Superman because her primary interaction with him is that he acts like a whiny bitch and she brings him pie so she can ogle him. She is a simple woman who enjoys life’s simple pleasures.
The Kryptonian language is really complicated in terms of tonality, context, word order, musicality, etc, and the written language reflects that. Things like the order things are in, how things overlap, colors, etc, are all important. So basically I really like the idea of his symbol being one that represents his family name and says that he is of the House of El. It’s really just basically his last name.
If Starfleet gets to have replicators then Krypton gets to have replicators and Jor-El definitely stuck one in the ship so his son would have, you know, food and clothing. But only Kryptonians can use their tech because they’re who the neural interface is designed for so whoops they got real lucky that Kryptonian babies love milk from Earth goats. Clark only started using the replicator later but it only knows how to make Kryptonian things and only some of those are useful to him.
Okay so here is where I tie those last two bullet points into something fucking dumb that you will take out of my cold dead hands: Clark got the costume out of the replicator. It didn’t necessarily understand what he wanted though? Like, the concept of a costume didn’t really translate, but it got the idea that he wanted an active uniform, so that is what it made. It’s brightly colored and has his last name on the front. Clark is wearing a Kryptonian football jersey is what I’m getting at. Later Kara will be VERY confused by this. Imagine ending up on an alien planet and meeting your cousin and he’s been fighting crime dressed like a quarterback.
Most telepathy does not work because different neural patterns. Diana can only manage it if she uses her lariat and even then it’s like trying to lasso a freight train that does not stop. It’s extremely disorienting. J'onn has just accepted that Superman can hear him but he’s not going to get anything back. It’s like the psychic equivalent of a dial tone for him. He’s trying to call his bro but their family has dialup. He tries not to fuck with it because he doesn’t want to poke around in Superman’s head blind and break something.
Clark can’t type with super speed because he’ll break the keyboard and the computer can’t keep up. Instead he uses shorthand along with a custom set of AutoHotKey macros and it is honestly infuriating how fast he can get things written with this setup. But also if he doesn’t have AutoHotKey on whatever he’s typing with then sometimes Lois will get an email like: ll] dyk f pw mde a dec wrt t $l stry? ]ck
A woman was told by her therapist to try talking to at least one person once a week but she decided to cheat by just talking to her empty apartment under the guise of telling Superman about her day because lol he can hear everything allegedly so this definitely counts and is what the doctor was going for with this. When she has to go to the hospital for a medical emergency she comes home and there is a note on her counter wherein Superman explains that he was worried because he hadn’t heard from her in a while, so he swung by to check on her. When he found out what happened he watered her plants and fed her goldfish and also that cat that he thought might be hers (she does not have a cat). She is completely mortified because she was just being full of shit she did not actually believe he could hear her oh god what all did she even say and whose cat is this???
Look if you are in Metropolis and you loudly say HEY SUPERMAN there is a very good chance he will hear it even if he doesn’t mean to. He is not trying to eavesdrop, that’s just what happens when you yell someone’s name in earshot.
He doesn’t wear the costume under his clothes because you may have noticed a running theme here where the universe is conspiring to ruin his clothes and leave him running around shirtless all the time. I mean thank god for the rest of us but he would rather not risk someone spilling their drink all over him somehow and suddenly his shirt is transparent and you can see the big S. It’s bad enough when it happens under ordinary circumstances. How often can one man get drinks spilled all over him? You would be shocked. Shocked. His eyes are up here, Lois.
Patrick Morrissey, born May 22nd
of 1959 in Lancashire,
to a working-class Irish migrant family, Morrissey grew up in
Manchester where he established
the well known band The Smiths in 1982. Six years later he would
launch his solo act as Morrissey which is still going on. He has been
acclaimed as one of the greatest lyricists in the history of rock
with themes that diverge from the typical Rock themes of bravado and
glorification. Morrissey is often referred to as one of the most
influential artists of modern times, he has been a gay icon and
animal’s right activist…but did you know he is also the cult icon
of a strange Mexican subculture?
all the bizarre connections in the world of music, one of the
strangest by far is that of Morrissey and Mexican people. In a
culture that is notable for its firm machismo that despises anything
that has to do with feelings and expression…why is Morrissey so
popular? The answer is in the question, the toxic masculinity of the
Mexican culture can only go so far before men themselves begin to
feel asphyxiated by it. When you are taught from an early age that
men don’t have feelings and men don’t cry and they have to be tough
as nails, something snaps. In comes Morrissey singing of that sense
of estrangement and longing that can be found in traditional Mariachi
and Ranchera songs of Mexico…the only difference is that men are
allowed to feel.
Rancheras often speak of heartbreak and hurt in the only way they
are allowed to without showing any emotions that are not manly, this
often reduces the themes to anger. Anger that she left, anger that
she is sleeping with another. Then the protagonist gets drunk and
maybe fires a gun or rides a horse into the sunset. Well everything
is different in Morrissey’s lyrics, they have the sentiment of a true
Ranchera and the hurt and heartbreak, but it can be manifested in
sadness and longing that is not patriotic or hyper-masculine.
Basically Morrissey tells us that Boys cry too, and it’s OK.
the spring of 2000, after seven years of silence, Morrissey decided
to tour Latin America for the first time ever. The ¡Oye
was obviously aimed at his extensive Latino-based fans which had
grown out of proportion during those seven years. John
Schaefer, host of WNYC’s “Soundcheck,” said about that run of
dates. “At a time where he couldn’t get a record contract, here
was this audience that was loyal and perhaps kind of unexpected, and
he went and played to them. For many of us, that was the first
inkling we had that there was something unusual and peculiar going on
new found awareness took music critics by surprise, they started to
question why was Morrissey such a huge deal south of the border?
Some made the association between Mexican folk music and Morrissey’s
music. Others noticed how Morrissey’s style makes an appeal to the
greaser culture of Hot Rods–and-pompadours that’s also quite
popular among certain Latinos. Some ethnographers decided to look
closer to home and found another answer in the Chicano community. A
new generation of American born Mexicans felt displaced in their new
land. With Latin roots and traditions but lost at sea in a country
where you are not wanted felt the same angst that Morrissey was
singing about; a deep-seated melancholy about where to belong. It’s
easy to see how many of Morrissey’s lyrics deal with that identity
crisis, with a sense of alienation, of being an “other” appeal to
the entire Chicano community.
took notice of this and for the past 15 years he has been making this
link very explicit. His most famous recognition of this was during
where he declared in the middle of the concert “I wish I was born
Mexican, but it’s too late for that now.” Other examples include
him strutting around wearing the uniform of the Mexican soccer team
Chivas de Guadalajara, rocking shirts with the most iconic Mexican
saint La Virgen de Guadalupe. And then there’s Mexico,
one of Morrissey’s newer songs which could double as an anthem of
Chicano love for the homeland.
the other side, in Mexico there are countless Morrissey and The
Smiths tribute bands, most of them created by kids that call
themselves neo-Mozzers. There are conventions, clubs and events with
the only purpose of venerating one Steven
Morrissey’s love affaire with Mexican people legitimate? or only a
shrewd business strategy? Only time will tell but the love that
people south of the border feel for him is true and is pure as a
light that never goes out.
You know, I think I actually like the dub version of this internal monologue better. The sub has more poetic/philosophical lines like “Was I able to defeat those feelings inside of me, holding me back?” and “But where does the road go from here?”, but this version feels a little more…I don’t know, personal? Grounded? More like something a real person might actually think and less like a generic Dramatic Anime Speech™?
And the dub lines about Gozaburo being his “greatest demon” whose memory he’s still haunted by are probably more honest than sub!Kaiba’s “lol he came back as a ghost but I just killed him again” reaction. The part about him genuinely wanting to rebuild his life is a nice bit of character development…plus it’s sweet that the dub made his desire to move on to the future explicitly about wanting to make a better future for Mokuba.
4S pulled his sh*t together at the right moment. Combo of Doom rose from the ashes to become a glorious phoenix. My headcanon didn’t get totally jossed. Headcanon Brian is a f*cking prophet. Yuzuru threw down the gauntlet, broke the scoreboard, made history and brought the whole house down. And H&L has dethroned Seimei as my favorite free skate of all time.
This is my number one favorite YouTube video of all time. 8 seconds long, and in that brief span, gives you minutes of laughter and HOURS of stuff to discuss. What is this competition? Who is this guy in the rafters? How did he get there? Why is he WAKING UP there? The title implies that the sleeping man is the video uploader… is he still trying to piece together how he materialized there? The greatest part of this video is the dangling carrot of mystery that will never truly be solved. Short and sweet- the best YouTube video of all time.
Thank you very much for checking out this whole list of videos. It was fun putting them together! I’ll have to do another list like this sometime. But until that day- don’t forget to do the skit!
I feel like it’s impossible for me to explain how much I love Eliot Waugh. So let me start with some of his quotes.
“I bond fast. Time is an illusion.”
Quentin: If you’re trying to tell me that it gets better-
Eliot: Oh, God, no. It doesn’t. I’m trying to tell you, you are not alone here.
“I think something might really be…broken.”
“Becoming me was the greatest creative project of my life.”
“I know I said I didn’t need a family to become who I was supposed to be, but it turned out that I did. And it was you.”
—A letter Eliot wrote to Quentin
Dean Fogg: What were you expecting when you dove headfirst into that fountain?
Eliot: …I was expecting to die.
Eliot is so, so sad, and he is so, so tortured. By killing someone who made his life absolute hell, he discovered he was telekinetic. He had to kill someone else - someone he loved - to protect everyone else. He lost his two best friends for a period of time because of a stupid, under-the-influence decision he made, but the thing that killed him the most was the thought of losing Quentin - and only Quentin.
He threw himself - as his clay-made clone - in front of an attack directed at Quentin without even thinking about what could happen. He didn’t care what could happen to him. He threw himself in front of Quentin, in front of a fatal attack, as second nature. He didn’t care what happened to him, as long as Quentin was okay.
And, despite everything that happened, he still became the High King of Fillory. He will go down in Fillorian history as High King Eliot, The Spectacular, because that is what he is. Despite wanting to die. Despite the bad things that had happened to him. Despite all of that. He will still be known as one of the greatest Kings to rule over Fillory. And even though it is fictional, if that isn’t uplifting and if it doesn’t give you hope, there is something seriously wrong with you.
I remember seeing this back in my Mighty Boosh obsession days and thinking ‘what a gorgeous little bee-stung lipped twink! Where did they find him?!’ And now here he is, the greatest actor of his generation - and still with gorgeous bee-stung lips - but not nearly so much ‘twink’