i think declan touching doyle’s hand and saying ‘i remember you…’ and doyle responding ‘i’m sorry’ was the perfect way to end the emily & doyle & declan arc. it’s the perfect way to show that in a horrible, dysfunctional way they were a family (forced to be!!) and even though emily and doyle wanted each other dead and declan lives without both of them, a little bit of each other will live in all of them forever. honestly including this in the same ep where it’s revealed declan was born through doyle keeping his mother captive to force her to give birth, and emily’s disgust at that really makes this arc more powerful and tragic. like - she had to live with that man and make loving him believable. she had to believe 100% she was in love for him for this to work, not to mention she was further trapped by actually caring for declan and wanting to know he was okay. it’s a painful, confusing situation with no good outcome. if it’s not believable, you die and compromise the operation. if you believe it, you compromise your morality and identity and when everything ends you feel as though you’ve destroyed your home, your family. emily was left feeling so empty. god <//3
80 notes
·
View notes
HAZBIN SPOLIERS!!!!!!!
“if HELL is ‘forever’ than heaven must be a lie,
if angels can do whatever and remain in the sky!
The rules are shades of gray when you don’t do as you say,
when you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again!”
(GIF by @laputaskies)
67 notes
·
View notes
fig “my girlfriend’s out of town, okay? i’m spiralling!!” faeth
[IMAGE ID: screenshot of a tumblr post
user totallyfubar: my girlfriend is on a cruise so while she’s gone i’m gonna cut the sleeves off of all my shirts
user nightstargalaxy: why
user totallyfubar: she’s pretty much 85% of my impulse control / END ID]
46 notes
·
View notes
"Creating This Whole Scenario to Fulfill a Dream"
Part of the evolving Bill Scully POV series (on Ao3, or Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, and Part VI.)
*****
He'd crunched the numbers again three weeks after Dana left, nightmares of his sisters' namesakes swallowed up by cold little graves waking him in the darkest hour of the morning.
Tara and Matthew found him at the table later, head in his hands and papers strewn about in anger.
"Bill...." She stopped, drew to his side, wrapped her arm around his shoulder. "We already knew Matthew would be our only miracle."
"One of us was supposed to have a little Melissa," he argued, something to say as her tears dribbled into his hair.
"We could adopt, and--" Tara suggested weakly, stopping short when he grunted violently.
"None of them would have her smile. Or her hair. Or her ways."
"I know, Honey. I know."
*****
Bill stopped asking questions.
On Sundays, he stood before a God that impossibly created human life in under a month. On every fourth Sunday, he stood before the only little Scully girl, reading Sim over and over until his eyes burned.
*****
Tara-- lovely, exhausted, but determined Tara-- shoved Matthew at him and disappeared into the attic the day she hit eight weeks postpartum. Reappearing twenty minutes later sweaty, winded, and just as determined, she lugged Emily Sim's box of belongings in her wake, politely demanding her husband unpack it.
Emily had more drawings than toys. Incomprehensible sketches in crayon or marker or even ink were stacked thickly in unassuming animal folders, one a face, another a misspelled object. Emily, Seven Months or Emily, Age Two decorated the bottom right of most pictures in careful cursive. Bill found he could begrudge her adopted mother this, at least.
There were only two photo albums, despite the misplaced Scully having been an only child; and most photographs were scattered holidays, birthdays, and yet another trip to the hospital.
It was Bill who discovered the tape first, resurrecting Emily Sings Us Her Song from layers of packing like a holy relic. He dragged down Matthew's bassinette and attacked the VHS system with a vengeance. Tara just managed to lay their son down properly when he flipped the remote around and pressed play.
*****
Emily was on her second chorus of "The Mice Ate the Cake While the Rat Was Away" when Bill felt Tara press close. He lifted an arm up, squeezed her closer, and secured her tight to the spot northeast of his heart.
"What is it?" she asked, her hand rubbing circles wherever it flitted and landed. They both knew he was shaking.
"She's--" Bill admitted in relief, "--she's nothing like either of them, Honey. Melissa was watchful and Dana was serious. She's too... solemn."
His wife nodded slowly. "And sad."
They watched Emily pause her drawing, look over her shoulder, and loop the chorus once more.
"And sad."
*****
Thanks for reading~
Enjoy!
Tagging @today-in-fic
17 notes
·
View notes