#busters just so sad

[hoperays-song]

Random AO3 Tags + Sing Screenshots

[turtleblogatlast]

Small but significant character moments that I actually really adore are from both the times we see the boys as tots. There is a reoccurrence that happens in both of them that I find so incredibly interesting.

For the turtle tot short, Splinter leaves the boys with weapons. In the short, Raph is the one who suggests they do “what Lou Jitsu would do” and Leo is the one who takes point when Splinter comes back to reprimand them. Leo, in taking point, is the one to defend them and get Splinter off their tails.

And then, in the flashback regarding the Kuroi Yōroi helmet, Raph is the one who grabs and throws “Skully” as a way to replace their missing ball which breaks it into pieces, but Leo is the one who speaks for the group and rushes into action to fix the teapot.

I love this for multiple reasons, but the biggest are how it shows that Raph has always been inclined toward the bold and fun and making the plans to include his brothers in what he loves and believes they’d love, whereas Leo has always been inclined to be the “Face” of the group and shoulder the attention even if it’s potentially negative all while coming up with on the spot attempts to fix the situation.

[frida--y]

Go-Busters ep. 22 | Mission 22: The Beautiful Avatar, Escape!

[anonymous-tals]

I made a short comic based off a yearbook photo of Gob.

Gob, stop making me want to cry. That’s so sad.

Also, I noted how the bangs in the photo are very choppy and a peer and I discussed it and, opposed to it just being that they gave Will Arnett a cheap wig, we decided that Gob dyed and grew out his hair/gave himself this haircut to try give himself a more mysterious magician look and he definitely thought he looked very cool.

[castorochiaro]

do u think after the end of the series when gazpacho moves out/is kicked out of his mom's house he has a moment like this hanging out with chowder and the rest of the catering company?

[shencomix]

Recently I decided to go to my local fighting game tournament.

Here's how it went.

I had been getting pretty good at Guilty Gear over the past few weeks, to the point where I was getting the input correctly for the Potemkin Buster 1 out of every 4 or 5 times I tried it. So I thought "I might not be the best yet, but, surely good enough for my local" -- and I decided to go.

It took place at a the comic & games store in the town center. The venue was full of people 10-15 years younger than me and even more drastically cooler. They all turned to glare at me as I walked through the door, but as I stood completely motionless like a gazelle hoping to blend into the grassland, their gazes slowly returned to each other and they continued to banter friendlily.

I sat down next to me first opponent, and reached out to shake their hand. They looked down at my hand, and then up at my eyes slowly.

"You're supposed to do that at the end of the match."

"Oh, s-sorry"

I got perfected twice and lost the match. At the end, I reached out again to shake their hand, but they just stood up and walked away.

Because I lost, I got moved down to the loser's bracket, which was literally below the main tournament because it took place in the basement of the comic shop. I could hear footsteps, cheering, and happy conversation in the floor above. Here in the loser's bracket though, the mood was a lot more somber.

My next opponent reminded me a little bit of me. They were equally nervous and disheveled looking. They said "Um, h-hello" and reached out their hand for a handshake as they saw me approaching. I said "you're s-supposed to do that at the end of the match." But as a look of deep sadness came over their face and they slowly put down their hand, I pulled them in for a hug.

I'm not sure why I did that.

I think that some part of me knew that, in this dark, dank, alien place, illuminated only by a single failing ceiling light and the neon glow of a few arcade machines, I had at last found a friend -- someone I understood, and who might understand me too.

They hugged back.

I lost that match by a very narrow margin, and as they jumped up and began dancing around and cheering ecstatically, I began to hate them. This was no friend of mine. A friend would not do this to me. After they were done dancing, they reached out to shake my hand. After a few seconds of pause, I stuck out my hand too, but didn't look at them and refused to close it around theirs as they grasped it. They shook my karate chop.

I thought that at that point, since I had lost and then lost in loser's bracket, I was free to go home. But one of the tournament organizers approached me and informed me that I was going down to sub-loser's bracket in the sub-basement of the store, and pointed me towards a descending staircase.

The people there were fewer, and it was darker. I could faintly hear sobbing in one of the corners, but as I went to investigate, another participant put his hand on my shoulder. He furrowed his brow in a look of pain and shook his head slowly.

"You can't do anything for them."

In sub-loser's bracket I went up against a man in a suit whose face was cloaked in shadow. He spammed May's dolphin move. I lost.

As I went to go back upstairs, one of the tournament organizers held out her palm to stop me, and pointed towards a staircase leading further down instead.

Going down through the levels, I lost to many interesting participants. One player played exclusively by bashing the controller against his face. One player was a mushroom with a few circuit cables clipped onto it, that I later learned was able to play because its bioelectrical signals got sent to a machine that interpreted them as fighting game inputs. One player didn't touch their controller at all, but instead just told me their life story, which was so tragic that I picked up their controller and won for them.

Finally, at the very bottom floor, where construction standards were long abandoned and the stairs and walls were just messily carved out of the earth's stone, I faced my final player. It was a small bit of metal framework, with a controller nestled in it. On it was a tiny piston that just pressed the jab button exactly once every second. I lost.

I hung my head for a moment, then said "close game" and stuck my hand out for a handshake, before remembering that I had played against a metal framework cube with a piston in it and retracting my hand slowly. Then I heard a slow clapping from the darkness.

"No neutral. No footsies."

Out of the darkness slowly walked a woman about my age, clad in a decorative poofy dress that looked more expensive than my entire life savings. She smiled at me warmly, continuing to clap slowly, but there was a hint of mischief in her eyes.

"No meter management. No mixups. No spacing. No learning. No strategy…

…You're perfect."

"Wh-what?"

"You're perfect. I absolutely must have you."

"Have me for…um…for what…"

(Her eyes went wide as her smile grew more manic.)

"WHY, MY MORON FAILSON HAREM OF COURSE."

"Um, I-I"

"Tell me, what do you do for a living? Let me guess, you work at a fast food restaurant? Or, retail?"

"No, I'm a--I'm a comic artist."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Oh my god, you are PERFECT. What will it take to get you."

"To-to ge--"

"You would be well taken care of, of course. 3 Michelin star dining for every meal. Only the finest, softest sweatpants and sweatshirts, pre-stained with whatever flavor of Takis your little heart desires. You would have access to the entire mansion except for the main foyer when I'm in business calls, and you could make all the comics and play all the fighting games you want."

"I'm uh--"

I knew that I had to think fast here.

"I'm already i-in a moron failson harem."

"Oh, DARN IT!! TELL ME, WHO IS IT??? WHO GOT YOU??"

"I-I think I'm not allowed to s-sa--"

She stomped her foot petulantly, her shoe clacking against the stone floor.

"WAS IT SHUXUAN?? IT'S ALWAYS SHUXUAN HOGGING ALL OF THE GOOD ONES."

"I-I'm sorry," I blurted out, shuffling along the wall to make a wide radius around her and then running up the staircase.

As I got home and began making my standard dinner of Trader Joe's microwave falafel, I thought about her offer. Maybe I should have taken her up on it after all. A 3 Michelin star meal right now wouldn't be so bad.

Then I hopped on Guilty Gear and lost 22 matches in a row.

[v4guelyv4mpiric]

ITS HALLOWEEN

the time of the year we are able to buy fangs in retail. and i've tried literally every brand of fangs that spirit halloween carries (and more), so this is my review and recommendations.

Scarecrow Fangs

unpopular opinion, but i did not like these. They're way too expensive, imo and the molding solution sucks and is a nightmare to work with. the fangs themselves are alright.

price: 19.99 us

rating: 5/10

Spirit Halloween

It's surprisingly good! i used these until i broke them - they use thermoplastic for molding, which i think should be the standard for fangs. It's far easier to work with. the plastic is cheaper than Scarecrow, but they feel solid and are a more realistic color (at least for me)

price: 4.99 us

rating: 8/10

Monster High

Oh my ghoul, i love these. These fangs are a bit on the smaller size, which is useful if you're going for subtle. and of course, being monster high, i'm all for them. i mean, that case is adorable

again, these use thermoplastic. Though its imortant to note not to put the fangs themselves in hot water while you're molding them- i warped one by accident. regardless, they are so comfortable and resilient. my second favorites.

price: 9.99 us

rating 9/10

Special FX

we've all seen that video of that girl using these in like 2008 and wanted to be her. at least i did... but im sad to report that these fangs dont work on my anatomy. they mold to your back molars with thermoplastic, and when you press on the bar, the fangs come down. these fit simular to a retainer as they just sit above your teeth.

i, however, am missing one of those molars and cannot line it up right to use them. (never beating the kentuckian stereotype)

price: 9.99

rating: 3/10

Now for the ones not sold at Spirit Halloween

Amazon cosplay fangs

You've most likely seen these before. they're nothing special, but they get the job done. i do like the case they come in! very convenient. But the color is far too unrealistic for me. still, they do use thermoplastic! which is always a win. and theres four sizes, again convenient.

price: 7.99 us (give or take)

rating: 4/10

Dracula Fangs

I had never heard of this brand before someone posted about these on tiktok. i bought them immediately (i am not immune to propaganda, and neither are you), and i gotta say... They're my favorite I've tried.

I got the large ones; and let me tell you, they're massive. definitely not for subtle vamp vibes. They're sharp, too! That's a plus for me, not for everyone, i assume. and they mold with thermoplastic! they come with way more than you need (which you can use to make more fangs if you desire)

they do come in smaller sizes as far as I've seen, but i haven't tried those yet.

price: 20.00 us (i know that's rather pricey)

rating 10/10

honorable(ish) mentions

...

vampire condoms. only get them as a bit. a /j fang if you will.

price: 0.99 (i got mine at dave&busters for 25 tokens)

rating: i am wampire/10

Walmart Fangs

i swore there were some in different packaging, but i can't find those now. these suck (not in the fun way). They're made of rubber, and i dont remember them having any molding agents. just skip these, okay?

price: 2.89 us

rating: 0/10

[humansofnewyork]

“I’m basically a big butch lesbian. I hosted lesbian parties for ten years. And let me tell you, they adore me. A lot of my closest friends are big butch lesbians. Certainly my best bodybuilding partners: amazing, aggressive, powerful women. Very dominant over the males in the gym. Not dominant over me, of course. Unless they’re busting my balls, because strong women are ball busters. They're just like the dudes. They are the dudes. They just happen to be dudes that are dudettes. They understand both sides of the fence; which is why we get along so well. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still friends with a lot of ‘dude’ dudes. But a lot of guys are just too rough around the edges when it comes to women. I don’t want any part of it. I find it grotesque. One term I’ve been hearing these last couple years is ‘body count.’ I’ve heard men say: ‘What’s her body count?’ They’re referring to the amount of people a woman has been with. What a pathetic, disgusting, wormy question. How dare you? This is an independent soul. This is a human that needs to be treated with honor and respect. This isn’t some piece of property you can put in a box. Imagine thinking someone is not worthy of you because they were a little experimental when they were younger, or even when they were older. That’s their choice. Leave them alone.  A woman can be with whoever she wants, whenever she wants, however she wants. If you ask me, it all comes down to insecurity. A lot of men think: ‘If she’s had a lot of lovers, there will definitely have been somebody better than me.’ They feel threatened, and they try to make that the woman’s problem. What a sad way of viewing things. No matter how many lovers a person has had, they’ll have never been with another you. Every person comes to the table with what they bring to the table. All of us are exactly what we are, different. And that what makes us all so special.”

[tangerinelovez]

How do you think OT7 Dream would comfort you after a bad day?

Mark: When Mark comes home from a day of work and sees you on the couch sad and quiet, not at all like your normal self, his face quirks up in shock. Your eyes are on him as he awkwardly looks around the room, rubbing his arm, looking as if he’s unsure what to do. After a few beats of silence, he meets your eyes and sits down next to you.

“How was your day?” He asks, looking at you with soft brown eyes. He listens intently and offers emotional support for a few minutes before diving into some solutions and advice. You notice his sentences are a little disjointed or rambling, but he definitely got some good points across and brought up new perspectives you hadn't considered.

"No, yeah, like, she was totally... uh... over the line for asking you to stay late to finish that report... like, she totally put you in a weird spot, y'know, given the fact she asked if you'd do it in front of so many people, you know? you don't... you can't deal with that kinda thing." You nod, feeling your frustrations dissipate as he continues to be the picture perfect supportive boyfriend… albeit a bit rambly. His talents definitely lie in making sure you feel heard, and like all of your concerns are so valid. He's an amazing listener who reassuringly holds your hand and gently strokes your thumb with his own as you talk and he offers his best reassuring words. Even if he somehow loses his train of thought along the way, he always brings it back home. He's the sweetest boyfriend you could ever ask for and you love the way he takes your mind off things... when he offers to get you your favorite takeout, you squeak out a "No, it's ok, I'm fine. We have leftovers."

He calls you from the restaurant to ask what exactly it is you like from their menu because he just wants to be 100% sure he gets your order right (and that they don't forget your sauces...) Would totally be the type to bring home way too much food, sheepishly saying, "Hey, you deserve it.... it's been a long day for you... not that you have to have a bad day to like, get good food, but i'm seizing this opportunity to make my girlfriend smile."

Yes, he did scrunch up his free hand that isn't holding copious bags of take-out while saying that sentence... and yes, you do laugh. When he sits back down on the couch next to you, you can't help but smile over how he instantly puts on some cheesy show for you both to watch while you eat your giant meals. "Mark... we're going to be eating these leftovers for days..." You say, but even as you say it, you're a bit shocked to realize nearly all the fries are gone.

Your eyes meet in shock, and you double over in laughter over the fact you both have been so absorbed in the stupid happenings of the reality TV show... you just kept eating.

With full bellies, you'd lay down on the couch and cuddle... laughing over the fact at least your problems aren't as bad as the poor girls on the crappy reality TV show... and you're lucky enough to have an amazing boyfriend who'd do anything to make you feel loved <3

Haechan: When you'd text him to let him know your day isn't going that well, Haechan would be the type to immediately get mad on your behalf as if someone had insulted his honor to the highest degree. Like... if you're having a bad day because of something somebody said to you or did to you, best believe you'd have to pull him back from confronting that person. His chaotic and over-the-top insistence on getting as involved as possible makes you feel really loved... Although he is a bit dramatic, you have to admit it's a nice change from the previous nonchalant busters you had dated who had no real interest in protecting your wellbeing. This man would spam your phone with stupid Instagram reels and bad puns in hopes your mood would improve slightly.

When he's finally with you in person, it would take a natural disaster to get him off of you. He would douse you in kisses and nearly crush your ribcage with a tight hug. He'd totally be the type to dramatically look out the window and declare you're letting those bitches win if you don't make the best of the rest of the day. he'd walk you around the neighborhood for a bit, an arm slung over your shoulder, and would just take in the scenery with you, feeling that your quietness was more out of contentedness than anything else.

Although he can sometimes be a lot, he has a huge heart and will always do his best to read the room and figure out what you need... while still encouraging you to sometimes do things that make you a bit uncomfortable... Hey, he was right about how good a walk outside can be for mental health and gaining perspective! you should trust him.

he'd claim he had no real route in mind for your neighborhood walk, and yet, you'd somehow conveniently end up at your favorite mom-and-pop restaurant. he'd feign shock, looking between you and the restaurant a few times before saying, "Destiny led us here... come on, the universe is saying your boyfriend needs to buy you a couple pan-fried dumplings. Who are we to say no?"

Once you're sitting down at the restaurant, you'd finally begin spilling more details about what was bothering you, and to his credit, he would listen quite well, only interrupting a few times to express his annoyance with your classmates over not carrying their weight on the project. With a belly of pan-fried dumplings and noodles, you walk back to your apartment with Haechan, grateful to have a boyfriend who lets you vent at your own pace, and doesn't force you to share ... even if it sometimes kills him to wait to hear who is at fault Renjun: Renjun is the type to immediately discern when something is wrong with you, even if you try your very best to hide it. As soon as he'd come home and lay eyes on you, staring straight ahead on the couch in the living room, his gaze would soften and he'd say, "hey sweetheart... you okay?" to which you'd nod before tears would suddenly well up, causing him to drop everything in his hands and rush over to you.

He'd sit next to you on the couch and pull you close to his side, wrapping both arms around you and rocking you gently as you cry. He'd sit there with you quietly for as long as it would take for you to calm down, quietly humming as the two of you sway slightly, his hand softly combing through your hair. Eventually, you'd shakily exhale and lift your head from his shoulder, maneuvering yourself on the couch to face him. He'd shift slightly, as well, ensuring that you could see his full attention is on you. He'd listen intently as the words suddenly come spilling forth. After telling him all about your bad day and what has been bothering you, you can count on Renjun to get right down to solutions. Though he's a super caring boyfriend, the man would believe that the way to truly help you feel better would be to attack the issues head-on rather than just offering you emotional support. However, he always speaks to you very calmly and sweetly, never talking over you. After discussing possible solutions for a while, I think he'd be the type to say, "Well, there's not much else we can do right now, so maybe let's just take your mind off of all that for tonight? And tomorrow, you can talk to your friend about some of your concerns." You love the way he makes big, all-consuming feelings and events feel smaller by breaking it down piece-by-piece and ensuring you never feel like these issues are yours to bear alone.

He'd totally be the type to say something cheesy like "the first duty of love is to listen" He'd be so honored that you shared your troubles with him and trust his advice so much, would instantly shush you if you tried to apologize for crying and ruining your night together.

"Your worries are my worries... I swear sometimes you worry me with how low your bar is for treatment from others... but hopefully it's raising everyday we're together." After all that talking... and crying... and laughing, he'd make some popcorn, crack open your favorite soda, and put on the one movie you've watched every time you've been sad. And he wouldn't even make fun of you when you'd recite all the lines along with the characters dutifully. Jeno: When you come back from school, overwhelmed by the workload of your graduate-level courses, Jeno would listen intently to all your issues, nodding and sighing at the appropriate times, making you start to find amusement in his display of active listening. This man would definitely take all his cues from you and adapt appropriately. If you're angry... then he is boiling mad, too. Madder than you are, actually. If you just don't want to talk about it any more, he would definitely respect that, and start cycling through your favorite topics to try and boost your mood.

No matter what, he would insist on being by your side and doing whatever it is that you want to do, repetitively asking if there's anything else he can do for you. He'd shyly pepper your hairline and temple with kisses, smiling against your head softly when he'd feel you laugh. He'd definitely be all over you, cuddling you on the bed to the best of his ability as he throws out different activities you could do to feel better. "Do you want to paint something?" A slight head shake from you tells him you're not really in the mood for anything crafty... but maybe you could be convinced. "Hmm... would you wanna go out for dinner, baby?" It's silent for a few seconds before you say, "Hmm... maybe...."

The arm he has around your neck is comforting, but as he moves it to scratch his chest absentmindedly, you feel like the comforting embrace is slightly choking.

Thankfully, he stops his scratching and sighs, staring at the ceiling before he tosses out his next suggestion. "Okay... how about... we go to that one grocery store you really love, get all the ingredients for homemade pizza... AND any other snacks you want? and your loyal samoyed will happily buy them all for you?"

suddenly feeling a burst of energy over the prospect of wandering the aisles of your favorite fancy grocery store and being silly and creative in the kitchen with Jeno, before relaxing on the couch together to laugh over some stupid movie, you curl into his side excitedly.

"Yeah, that sounds amazing..." Now you're the one peppering him with kisses, from the mole below his eye to the tip of his nose, feeling so happy that you have such a patient and sweet man who shows you how he cares through actions. "You can just wear my sweatshirt, too. No need to change." Is it possible to be any more in love? I guess you'll find out when the night's over.

Jaemin: Jaemin runs an aggressive campaign in turning your frown upside down. "Baby.... what's wrong...?" Jaemin's deep voice would warble out of the phone as you try to steady yourself in the bathroom at work.

"Ugh, it's... it's nothing. I'm just frustrated. I shouldn't have called, I know you're busy..."

He'd huff, the pfft somehow coming through the speaker with just as much sass as it would in person. "What is it I always say when you start pulling this nonsense?"

You exhale, glad there is no chance anyone can come in the single-occupancy restroom and hear your boyfriend giving you a pep talk over the phone.

"'You're wasting both of our times because I'm not going anywhere until you talk?"'

Jaemin's tinny voice exclaims in frustration over the phone. "Baby, no, the other thing."

You hum in understanding. "'Tough times don't last but you will?'"

He groans again. "Damn, I say way too many things, all so wise and encouraging. No, baby, 'a problem shared is a problem halved.' That's what I always so wisely say to encourage you."

You'd nod, finding amusement in just how many idioms seem to come spewing out of him. After talking to him on the phone for a bit, you'd find the strength to leave the bathroom and finish your day at work. When you finally make it home, Jaemin would hug you at the door, and gently ask how the rest of the day went, offering emotional support and advice as you saw fit. However... his biggest way of making you smile after a hard day would definitely be taking you to a late night movie and stuffing his cargo pants and hoodie with all the snacks you could ever want. He'd even go as far as to throw some cans of soda into a blanket before excitedly tucking it under his arm, urging you to get in the car so you can go snuggle at the theater with all the smuggled snacks you could ever desire. You'd cuddle up to each other, grateful it was a reclining seat theater, and that nobody else seemed to want to see this weeks-old movie at 11:00 pm on a Wednesday other than the two of you. After the movie, he'd take you on a drive around the city, playing your favorite music lowly, his hand on your thigh, allowing you to talk as you saw fit, but mostly just content with the silence, knowing the soft smile on your face was genuine. And when you fall asleep in the car? he'd drive around for a few more minutes, softly singing along to the music and gently stroking your leg as he did so.

And yeah... he'd carry you inside and shush all the cats before they'd even get a chance to meow.

And when you wake up the next day, terrified you're gonna be late for work? He's already awake, cooking breakfast :) best boyfriend in the world award loading... Chenle: Chenle is a straight-forward man. When he realized you were answering his texts after several hours with short replies, he knew action needed to be taken.

He'd call you, and after your sniffly "hullo?" would know all he needs to. Nothing would stop that man from instantly booking it to your location, which just so happened to be the parking lot of your job.

He'd park right next to your car, and tap on the passenger window gently, prompting you to unlock the door for him.

"(Y/N), what's wrong? Was it that one girl from yoga? The stupid ass girl in HR? Tell me," He'd say, taking his hands in yours, causing you to shift in your seat slightly and face him.

"I-I don't even know, Chenle. It's just everything today... one thing after the other." After showing him your cracked phone screen and broken nail, he examines your hand more carefully, turning it over with great scrutiny. 

"Um... what, Chenle?" “This color was ugly anyways…” He mutters before looking up at you. “Get in my car, we have to go.”

You look at him in shock, still a little annoyed and frustrated. “What?”

He huffs, voice unwavering and face firm. “Get. In. The. Car.” 

Suddenly he beams. “I’m taking you to get your nails redone. And in a cuter color…”

You feel a blush coming on over his insistence. “Oh, no, Chenle, it’s fine, really–”

“Stop. It’s already done. And I need you to get moving. While you’re getting your nails done, I have to make it to this appointment… you like silver, right?”

Your eyes widen in shock as you sit down in the passenger seat of Chenle’s car. “Chenle, you’re not getting me a new phone.”

Chenle laughs, shaking his head slightly. “Nobody said anything about getting you a new phone…you materialistic woman…” 

When you get picked up from your nail appointment, (which Chenle Zelle’d you the money for, plus a little extra because of “girlfriend tax”), you not only have a new latest-model silver iPhone but also a new pair of silver hoops.

You just love the way he spoils you while simultaneously keeping you on your toes. Life is never boring with him, and he never hesitates to make you feel special in his own way. 

Would definitely finish the day off by dramatically performing all of your favorite songs he normally finds really cheesy and annoying (he wants to put a smile on your face today, okay? Don’t get used to it) 

Jisung: He knows you sometimes need your space, so he’d want to feel out what the right move is. When he feels like you’re having a bad day, Jisung would first talk to you about all of your favorite topics enthusiastically, hoping it would pique your interest and cheer you up… if that was unsuccessful… he would dive deep into his trove of secrets and tell you about embarrassing things he’s done that he’s forced the other boys to hide from you (which is no easy feat seeing as they love to tell you about dumb things he has done).

“So… you just… ran away?” You say, your chest feeling lighter as you laugh.

“Well… I just felt so awkward… my voice crack echoed around the room so loudly…I knew that Haechan would be talking about it for the rest of the week.”

You laugh some more, thinking of how he must have had that cute embarrassed look on his face when it happened.

“Honestly, probably the rest of my life.” 

A cute blush would appear on his features, making you feel compelled to snuggle even closer to him, the scent of his soft hoodie doing wonders in improving your mood.

You would quietly talk on the couch for a while before Jisung would start showering you in shy compliments, telling you how much he loves your hair and your outfit, before finally asking how you could have possibly had a bad day when you look this good.

Now you’d blush, hiding your face in his hands when he looks at you with his sparkly eyes. 

“Don’t you have rehearsal now?” You’d ask and he’d shrug, looking at the time quickly before looking back at you.

“I can be late. I don’t want to go just yet.”

You’d snuggle in deeper and feel 1000x better knowing he’ll always be there when you’re feeling down.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Harry Belafonte (Carmen Jones, Island in the Sun)—one of my favorite things in the world when I'm sad is kicking back and listening to him and Danny Kaye singing "Hava Nagila" together. Or who can forget this man singing the Banana Boat song with the Muppets?? immensely talented, a powerful fighter for civil rights and humanitarian causes his whole life, if you have any remaining doubts PLEASE look at the following pics [clips and pics attached below]

Buster Keaton (The General, The Navigator, Sherlock Jr.)—For me Buster’s hotness comes not just from his physical beauty but in the constant surprise and contradictions of the man, he’s simultaneously delicate/rough, feminine/masculine, confident/vulnerable, 5foot5 pretty face with an unexpectedly deep voice, at first glance you think oh he’s a cute little thing and then he takes his top off and it’s Superman abs underneath. He was intensely shy in social situations but had no hesitation in jumping off the top of a building. He famously never smiled on screen* but he exudes warmth and joy and laughter. He created some of the most beautiful, intelligent movies ever made but refused to acknowledge his own genius and talent as an artist, instead maintaining that all he wanted to do was make people laugh. If he was here in reality competing in this poll he would give it 100% but he would not be at all bothered if he didn’t win. And that’s why he’s the hottest vintage man. A vote for Buster is a vote for all that is good and decent in the world 💕 (*he did smile on camera occasionally despite his own assertions to the contrary 😄)

This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Buster Keaton propaganda:

"Just look at his freaking face...."

This entire Tumblr page was submitted

This post

This video

"And for those who have never heard it, here’s his lovely voice in action: link"

Submitted: Link to Buster Keaton car stunts

Submitted: BK fancam

Submitted: quotes about BK video compilation

"Ripped body, gorgeous unique face, beautiful personality too"

Harry Belafonte propaganda:

"Now let me say this about the songs of the Caribbean - almost all black music is deeply rooted in metaphor. The only way that we could speak to the pain and anguish of our experiences was often through how we codified our stories in the songs that we sang. And when I sing the 'Banana Boat Song,' the song is a work song. It's about men who sweat all day long, and they are underpaid, and they're begging the tallyman to come and give them an honest count - counting the bananas that I've picked, so I can be paid. And sometimes, when they couldn't get money, they'll give them a drink of rum. There's a lyric in the song that says, 'Work all night on a drink of rum.' People sing and delight and dance and love it, but they don't really understand unless they study the song that they're singing a work song, a song of rebellion." -Harry Belafonte

[hoperays-song]

Canon Dead Sing Characters Last Words

Jia (Johnny’s Mom): Johnathan, my little songbird, I love you so much honey, किसी चीज से अधिक. Never forget that.

Charley (Buster’s Dad): You know, it’d be a nice morning for a walk.

Ruby (Clay’s Wife): Goodnight taku aroha.

-----------translations------------

किसी चीज से अधिक (hindi) - more than anything

taku aroha (māori) - my love

[palms-upturned]

I’m not gonna jump in ppl’s notes over this bc lord knows I do not want to have a debate about it but seeing someone say “I have qualms about people calling Jean ableist for trying to fire Harry and in the same breath saying Harry is unfit for cop work” is really getting to me. I am practically on my knees begging people to actually engage with what disco elysium has to say about disability and addiction and ableism and policing and social murder because it’s not even subtextual, it’s as blatant and hand holding as it could possibly be. The 41st is an awful environment for Harry not bc him being disabled makes him incapable of doing his job, it’s bc the job is fucking hostile to his existence. Like, no one is “fit” to be a cop because they shouldn’t exist, firstly, and even Harry himself will say as much in the Ruby bad ending. But talking about Harry’s case specifically, we know that this job is part of what landed him where he is to begin with.

From the start of day 2:

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — You mean why are you so tired? Too tired and *down* to even think? It *is* worrying, isn't it. You can't be a detective like this -- detectives need to be able to think.

YOU — Why is this happening?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — It's just that your heart has finally pumped all the *speed* out of your system, buster. Time to get some more.

YOU — Wait. What *is*... speed?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Speed is a potent central nervous system stimulant. It kept you propped up all day yesterday despite your debilitating hangover. How else did you think you even got up from this floor?

VOLITION — You got up from this floor because of a holy vow you made sixteen years ago. With *me*. To wake up exactly 07:30 every morning until the day you die.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Don't be silly. There was no vow. You were high on speed. That was the only reason you got up. You can't *detect* without it, it's that simple.

YOU — No. I can take this. I am not going to go looking for speed.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Are you sure? Ready to live as this pathetic shell of yourself for days? Basically a week? Let's be honest -- two weeks, maybe three? You won't make it. Half the town will be dead by then. You will be fired.

YOU — That's a lie. I can do this without the speed. Half the town won't be dead... (Opt out.)

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — Suit yourself, slow, sad shell-man. See how you do without your spark.

And from this talk with Kim in Klaasje’s room:

KIM KITSURAGI — "Amphetamine -- does it make you a better detective?"

SUGGESTION — Be honest. He's not grilling you, he just wants to know. Ask if he's ever wanted to take it too.

YOU — "Honestly, it makes me the detective I am. Have you thought of taking it too?"

KIM KITSURAGI — "Maybe I should?" He lets out a little pensive hum, rubbing his shoulder...

DRAMA — It's not insincere. He's actually giving it thought.

KIM KITSURAGI — "Doesn't the... pupils and the gurning jaw, the sweating... doesn't it become tiring after a while?"

YOU — "I understand it's unbecoming but if I don't perform this job well I am nothing. It's the price I pay."

Harry knows that the cost of getting sober would be that the precinct would let him go. They’re not going to have the patience to deal with him slowing down from the combo of withdrawal and no speed to “keep him propped up.” Not when the reason that he’s stayed on the force this long and risen in the ranks is most likely because he manages such a massive caseload, as we find out from Kim:

YOU — "Is two cases a week a good case load, lieutenant?"

KIM KITSURAGI — "Huh?" He raises his nose from his notes. "Two *complex* cases to undertake is a lot, yes. You *really* have to push yourself. I would not suggest it. Lest you start making mistakes."

YOU — "Two cases a week appears to have been my load, lieutenant. I'm not sure I completed them though."

KIM KITSURAGI — "Two?" He raises both eyebrows. "That's a lot. I didn't mean to say you're making mistakes, by the way. That was presumptuous of me."

And later:

KIM KITSURAGI — "This next row -- the one that wraps all the way around -- is your number of closed cases. *Closed* is good. It means finished. You've got, let's see..."

KIM KITSURAGI — "Wow, more than 200!"

YOU — "Is that a lot?"

KIM KITSURAGI — "It's *quite* a lot, even for someone who's been on the force for nearly two decades. Usually clearing more than 10 cases a year puts you in the 90th percentile of *all* RCM officers..."

Despite the trouble Harry makes, he’s considered an asset so long as he closes cases. To the point where he wasn’t punished for drunkenly beating Burke unconscious and then injuring his knee so badly that he can’t walk anymore just because this allowed them to close the “unsolvable case” of Leslie and Burke. 41 and the RCM as an institution don’t care about Harry’s or anyone else’s wellbeing, they care about whether the pros of having him around outweigh the cons.

From the lazareth call with Gottlieb:

YOU — "Isn't there *anything* you can do for me?"

NIX GOTTLIEB — "What, you want me to do blood work for you again, tell you just how bad things really are *across the board*? You want another rundown of everything collapsing inside your body?"

YOU — "Yes. I want the truth!"

NIX GOTTLIEB — "You want the real, honest-to-god truth? Stop drinking, eat magnesium and vitamin D. Our station is not a retirement home. We don't have the funds to deal with *rock stars* past their prime."

RHETORIC — So it's political! You're being *neglected* because of political reasons...

NIX GOTTLIEB — "And no, I *don't* want to hear a *political commentary* on the topic. In fact -- I've got work to do."

If I were to quote every time Gottlieb was notably uncaring or said something blasé about how you probably didn’t have long to live, I’d have to quote pretty much every word of that dialogue. That’s the whole joke with Gottlieb. That’s just how it is dealing with doctors when you’re in Harry’s position.

From talking to Kim about Uuno:

KIM KITSURAGI — "We could take him to Remedie or Saint Batiste, but he doesn't have money for medical services. The Almshouse would turn him down..."

KIM KITSURAGI — "They don't do charity for people who're trying to kill themselves. Besides, he'll be dead in a few..." The lieutenant stops, listening to him.

RHETORIC — ... years? Months? Weeks?

“They don’t do charity work for people who’re trying to kill themselves” really sums up the absurdity of Harry’s situation and institutional responses to it. Harry isn’t seen as the kind of person in crisis who deserves intervention. He’s treated as a lost cause who deserves to suffer the consequences of his self harm, even though the unending crisis and the lack of response to it is what drives him to harm himself and hope that he “gets worse.” If he weren’t a cop, it’s unlikely that Kim would care about him any more than he cares about Uuno and Cuno’s situation. Harry’s job is killing him, but it’s also the only thing that gives him access to anything resembling a community or support network (at least at the start of the game). Again, that’s just the way it goes when you’re disabled.

From the second tribunal:

TRANT HEIDELSTAM — "Well -- here is my theory: What if this is an absolutely normal reaction to the world we're living in? What if this is *not* a significant anomaly at all, something to be explained, approached as a defect? Look at the sensory input here..." He gestures toward the scenery.

TRANT HEIDELSTAM — "Look at the ruins, the neon, listen to the radio, the multitudes. The people. Live here for forty years... As a police detective, he's like a magnetic reader on the world-tape -- to borrow a known metaphor. Harry's been pushed *flat against it*. Total input."

TRANT HEIDELSTAM — "Hard-wired to the free market..." He nods confidently. "He just needed for it to end."

JEAN VICQUEMARE — "Okay, Trant, thank you. That's... absolutely meaningless. I'm glad we brought you. Will he or will he not be able to work in the Major Crimes Unit? Is he a cretin now? I want to know *that*."

TRANT HEIDELSTAM — "He is *not* a cretin. And he *is* able to do work -- if not in his previous leadership role, then as a line detective."

YOU — "Line detective is good for now."

JEAN VICQUEMARE — "For *now*?" He looks at you, then at Trant. "I misphrased my question. It should have been: Is he able to put his clothes on, and use the potty, or do we need to get him on a disability pension?"

Or, alternatively:

YOU — "He's wrong. I'm too far gone for work."

JEAN VICQUEMARE — "Agreed, Harry." He nods. "Just don't expect us to get you a disability pension. Cops who actually gave a shit are waiting in line. You're not gonna hog their seat."

Trant, who, notably, is technically a civilian consultant rather than a cop, (edit: and maybe even more notably, as someone pointed out in the tags, has had experience with addiction, too) suggests to Jean that Harry’s breakdown is a basically inevitable result of his circumstances and the systems that created them, and Jean’s response is that he doesn’t care and all that he wants to know is whether or not Harry can work or if he’s going to be “hogging” resources from other people who are more deserving of help because they “actually gave a shit.” He’s a mouthpiece here for the institutions that he represents and his ableism is blatant and heinous to drive the point home. He denies that Harry’s case is as serious as it is and accuses Harry of faking it, despite the fact that it’s happened (at least) twice before, and very recently:

JEAN VICQUEMARE — "I believe you *drank*. People do that -- you especially. What they don't do is forget their *whole life* because of drinking."

JUDIT MINOT — "But, Detective Vicquemare," she interjects. "He *has* blanked out before."

YOU — "I have?"

JUDIT MINOT — "Yes, a couple of times. After some of the more... serious benders." She pauses, remembering. "One was after the Two Drunks case, the other when we looked into that mural."

REACTION SPEED — The two cases... in your ledger. The Unsolvable Case and the Next World Mural. Those were recent.

And despite the fact that even Gottlieb doesn’t seem shocked about it:

YOU — "I've lost my memory. All of it."

NIX GOTTLIEB — "With all the damage you've been dealing yourself with drugs and alcohol, I'm not surprised."

AUTHORITY — There is no surprise in his voice. Only careless superiority.

DRAMA — It's hard to say if he doesn't believe you -- or doesn't care.

(Considering that Gottlieb’s PSY stat is so high (he’s even eating one of the PSY boosting candies during the call), along with his uncaring responses to all your other problems, it’s more likely the latter.)

Jean also won’t believe that you’re sober even if you haven’t touched so much as a cigarette for your entire playthrough, and even when Judit points out that he’s wrong, he’ll double down and say that it doesn’t matter because you’re going to relapse:

JEAN VICQUEMARE — "Even the insect -- I don't care. But you're an *alcoholic*. And you've been drinking -- again. I won't let my life unravel because of this."

JUDIT MINOT — "Jean -- I think he hasn't. I can see it on his face..."

ENDURANCE — The bloating *has* gone down since you woke up that morning...

JEAN VICQUEMARE — "Okay, so he's stayed clear for what? A week?" He sighs.

TRANT HEIDELSTAM — "It's tough. One of the toughest addictions to overcome. Comparable *only* to heavy synthetic opiates. Even morphine is easier to kick than alcohol -- statistically. The odds are against him. Especially at his age."

JEAN VICQUEMARE — He nods. "He's too old. He's been like this for too long. I've seen him try many times. It's a farce by now."

SUGGESTION — They're leaving. They're all turning away from you.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — No. You can figure it out. *Replace* it! Replace the alcohol with amphetamine. Or GBL! Fuck it -- morphine! Graffito removal agent! Anything. It'll buy you time. All you need is time.

Electrochemistry brings up yet another facet of Harry’s struggles with substances, which is the idea that some of them may be replacements for alcohol. He doesn’t have time or space to try to quit in any way that is remotely healthy. What he has are substances like speed that keep him from collapsing from the strain of it all so that he can keep showing up to work, and other substances that might (he hopes) help him wean himself off the alcohol.

The game explores all of these different factors of Harry’s struggles with addiction and the circumstances that keep him trapped in them exhaustively (and the fact that Robert Kurvitz apparently was recovering from alcoholism during the development probably contributed a lot to that). The structure and culture of the RCM are hugely responsible for Harry’s situation. He’s mocked and berated for being an alcoholic and told repeatedly to get his shit together without actually providing him with the means to do that. Instead, he’s not only enabled but practically forced to keep using just so that he can show up to work at all and not risk losing the only support network he has (even if it’s the shittiest and most unhelpful network imaginable). As Luiga (iirc) said, Harry’s biggest tragedy is that he’s incapable of quitting the force. Many of the reasons for that are genuinely just due to Harry being a class traitor and an asshole, but it’s also true that even if he did want to quit, there is no safety net to catch him.

And then Harry comes to Martinaise, a town that has been “orphaned” by the RCM and neglected by Revachol at large, left mostly to their own devices. It’s not like policing doesn’t still exist in Martinaise, and things are pretty dire for everyone in the community, but at the very least you can see that it is a community. Isobel houses you for free. In Kim’s absence (and after Gottlieb stitches and ditches you), Cuno and Garte take care of you when you’re shot. Acele responds to your breakdown on the ice by saying it’s okay to cry and that you can talk with her about it when you’re ready. Idiot Doom Spiral and co run to your aid when they see you drive your car into the sea and invite you to come drink with them just to stop you from doing it again. Harry discovers that life, while very painful and bleak at times, isn’t necessarily hopeless for the marginalized. You can still find solidarity and support outside of the system.

Meanwhile, if Harry in the end has no one to vouch for him and hasn’t stayed sober, that system will abandon him, a well-known suicide risk with at least one bullet hole in him and severe amnesia, with the promise of nothing but getting served a station call slip. The point is not whether or not Harry “deserves” to be forgiven or even whether he’s a danger to himself and others (to be clear, he is). The point is that this is a system that doesn’t care whether Harry and people like him live or die. That is why, even in a “good” ending where Harry is welcomed back to the 41st, the work won’t be sustainable. It’s going to kill him because that’s what it’s designed to do. The miracle of Martinaise was the realization that he doesn’t have to die. There are people who will help to keep him on this earth. They’re just not members of the fucking RCM.

It’s not a “gotcha” to say that if Jean (and the RCM, and the institutions of Revachol on the whole) is ableist for wanting Harry fired, then saying that cop work is unsustainable for Harry is also ableist. I won’t even say what I personally think of that logic because I’m trying to keep the tone of this post polite. Jean’s dialogue during the tribunal is meant to parrot every bit of ableist rhetoric that the system is built on and that keeps Harry trapped in this hellish feedback loop. He’s a mouthpiece for the general culture of the RCM, just like Gottlieb is a mouthpiece for the shit that addicts and the disabled have to deal with from the medical system. He thinks Harry should be fired because he’s a drunk and therefor a lost cause. The truth is that Harry needs to quit this job because it shouldn’t exist and because it is actively killing him.

In one of Martin Luiga’s articles about the process of creating the game, he brings up the concept of social murder, which is a term coined by Engels:

When one individual inflicts bodily injury upon another such that death results, we call the deed manslaughter; when the assailant knew in advance that the injury would be fatal, we call his deed murder. But when society places hundreds of proletarians in such a position that they inevitably meet a too early and an unnatural death, one which is quite as much a death by violence as that by the sword or bullet; when it deprives thousands of the necessaries of life, places them under conditions in which they cannot live – forces them, through the strong arm of the law, to remain in such conditions until that death ensues which is the inevitable consequence – knows that these thousands of victims must perish, and yet permits these conditions to remain, its deed is murder just as surely as the deed of the single individual; disguised, malicious murder, murder against which none can defend himself, which does not seem what it is, because no man sees the murderer, because the death of the victim seems a natural one, since the offence is more one of omission than of commission. But murder it remains.

None of this is subtext. And all of it is intended to make players actually spare a thought for what it’s like for people in Harry’s situation in real life. For God’s sake, please engage with it. You have to try and understand what it means to be trapped in a life that is made unlivable and to know that your death will be ungrievable. That’s what this whole game is about.

Edit: I’ve seen some ppl say in the tags something like “yeah, I like to imagine a happy ending for Harry, but…” and listen. I am laying a very gentle hand on your shoulders. The point of this post was never to say that there’s no happy ending for Harry. The point is that the first step toward that ending is conceptualizing a life outside of the RCM. In Martinaise, he got a glimpse of what that might look like. Hell, in the bad ending, you can even say to Jean, “fine then. I’ll just live here.” There’s hope for him and for us. I promise.

[rottenpumpkin13]

omg i just realized how much young angeal looks like zack...it makes so much sense now. he saw himself in him and took him under his wing

Please, not to mention how teen Angeal's body language and mannerisms are so chipper compared to his adult self (in the few seconds we got so far).

Imagine Sephiroth, who had only seen Zack from afar and through photos, meeting him in Wutai for the first time. He's spent enough time with Angeal that Zack's mannerisms mirror his own, his eyes glimmer with the same hope and positivity of a teenager from a humble village, and there's the hair. He reminds him of Angeal.

Now picture Sephiroth seeing Zack again after Angeal's death. Zack's changed; his hair is different, he's grown into his body, and he now wields the Buster Sword. The way he grips it is reminiscent of its former owner, and he speaks of the same ideals of dreams and honor that he learned from him. But behind his eyes there's a faint sadness, a reflection of grief that Sephiroth notices. And he realizes that Zack still reminds him of Angeal.

[vulpixisananimal]

"Look out, everyone!"

(Your feet feel like lead weights. Your shoulders, your back, your arms, your head your BLINDING head!! You could barely think! Let alone fight!)

(Don't think about the pain. Keep breathing.)

(How, HOW!?! PLEASE tell me HOW I can think about ANYTHING!!!)

"Loop please!!!" (Someone your shoulder, it was. . . The. . . Housemaiden.) "We can handle it, please! Just go rest!"

"I'm fine!" (You take your shoulder back, no touch.) "I, I can't leave you guys to, to do this alone."

(That was only half true. The real reason you stayed is because you woke up ten minutes ago. Despite your best efforts, you drifted to sleep. Stars, how stupid could you be!!! Now you were stuck HERE. And every failure would make it worse!!)

"We might not have that luxury." (The. . . Researcher calls over, readying herself.) "If we can figure out how to stop them now then. . ."

(. . . You forgot. Didn't you.)

(The Housemaiden looks at you, worried, then to Ramos, or what used to be Ramos.) "Grrr, fine! But you'll answer for this, buster!!!"

(Haha, you were terrified.)

"Plan, Loop?" (The Carpenter yells, she's in position with her hammer near The Kid)

(Ramos. . . Stars, what was your Defender thinking! You barely caught whatever conversation they were having, and, he could have been mind controlled or-)

(You forgot their names. Didn't you. You remember Ramos but not them? Your friends?)

". . . Try not to kill it." (You pause, trying to think of a tasteful way to say it- oh never mind that!!) "It'll, it'll kill Ramos too."

"!!!!"

"Oh. . ."

"R-right." (The Researcher says.) "Right, I suppose that, might make sense."

(You don't have a plan.)

(Yeah, you know. . .)

". . . J-just, just, just-"

(You, you don't know what to do.)

"Here they come!" (The Defender called over, he positioned himself in front of you.) "Don't strain yourself, Loop, just, try and figure something out."

(Right. . .)

(You feel like your body is shattering.)

(ATK down, DEF down, SPD down.)

(You concentrate really hard to speed up your friends.) "Right, it can still confuse you, try to avoid getting hit."

"Okay- Wait! I know!" (The Housemaiden claps her hands, and you feel something like a warm blanket wrap around you. You laugh.)

"Remembered the carrot method, did we?" (You call over.)

"Oh, it just came to mind, y'know?" (She smiles back.)

"Dunno if it'll work, but it's worth a shot. Let's go!!!" (Your Defender, strikes a pose, you feel a little stronger, but, not much.)

"We'll need to stall for time." (The Researcher crafts her spell.) "I can slow it down, but we need a proper plan."

"I-I'll, I'm trying-"

(So are you the Traveler again, Loop? And I, the Shadow? The Sadness?)

(Shut UP, you KNOW you forgot!!)

(The Sadness cries out, looking between you all, before diving at The Housemaiden.)

"I got it!!" (The Carpenter dashed forward and intercepted the attack, blocking with her hammer.) "N-no issue!"

"Thank you!" (The Housemaiden ducked to the side and swiped out with her rapier, it scraped on the sadness, but didn't doo much damage.)

(You're slow.)

(You shake your head. Loop time, you rush forward with your dagger and take a stab at the sadness. You connect. It doesn't do a thing.)

(Oh.)

(You look up at the sadness. It looked at you, it had insanity in its eyes. Oh. You're very weak.)

"HEY!!!" (Before you noticed, The Kid had smacked the sadness, it recoiled and you stumbled back.) "BE CAREFULL YOU CRABFACE!!!"

"R-right." (You held your head in your hand. Stars, come on, come ON. You're starting to feel numb again.)

(Do you even care?)

"Ramos!!!" (The Defender cried out.) "C'mon buddy!!! Snap out of it!!!" (He strikes, the sadness intercepts it with its, hands?)

"I don't think they'll hear you." (The Researcher whiped her brow before holding out a palm. The creative craft blasted the sadness, making it recoil, then scream.)

(It charged at her and lashed out.)

"Hrrngh-"

"M'dame!!!"

"A-are you alright?!?"

"I-I'll be fine."

(You shake your head, no, no she wouldn't be, there would be confusion, and then, and then-)

(Swap with me.)

(What?!? After what you've done!?! You'll drain the last of our energy!!!)

(You've been fighting too long. You need a breather, I handle it, stars, you forgot their names.)

(Like I'd trust you! You'll kill us!!!)

(You're killing us, too. Loop, I promise, I'll be conservative. I'll be careful.)

(. . . . . .)

(You breathe in, and out. Stars, you really did feel like walking death. Just breathe, Mal, it's Mirabelle next, take your time, look around.)

(Mirabelle claps her hands again, sending some healing craft to Odile. They were talking, making some comment, it didn't matter. Just focus on the Sadness.)

(Sadness. . .)

(A thing born of the sadness from frozen peoples; can no longer tell friend from foe. You could have been a sadness, maybe. What a sight that would have been. Ramos looked sad, and they looked desperate. They didn't want to fight you. Hmm. . .)

(You guard.)

"Smart!" (Isa calls back.) "We got it handled!"

(No, you don't. Isabeau threw a rock symbol and punches, the blast of craft glancing the sadness' side. It didn't do much. Rock on rock, of course.)

(Odile stood up, she shook her head.) "I-I think I'm being, effected." (She guarded.)

"Crab!!!"

(You needed a plan. Think. Think.)

(Why a sadness? Sadness were born from those frozen in time by the King. Ramos wasn't frozen, and there was no time craft in play. Perhaps it was made from Mind Craft? If that's the case then what other crafts could summon a sadness. Come to think of it, Ramos' sadness never froze any of you in time like those in the house could.)

(Sadness is a powerful emotion after all. And that is the domain of the mind.)

(Mirabelle holds out a hand and crafts a paper spell, the Sadness recoils, rolls with the hit.)

(What was Ramos screaming? As they turned into a sadness. Was it to someone?)

(. . . You open your mouth. You call Ramos name.)

(You see your allies wince at your voice, Ramos screams back. You didn't understand it. How do sadness communicate, you wonder. You call Ramos again.)

"OW!!" (Nille yelps.) "Crab was that!?!"

(She'll be fine, maybe Ramos could understand- wait-)

(WAIT.)

(You turn.)

(The sadness screams again and charges at you.)

(You try and dodge away, but your feet are still like lead, it's-)

(It strikes you in the chest and throws you across the yard.)

(Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. You got hit. You could feel your mind freezing up. You could, feel, your, mind. . .)

(Some "protector" you are.)

(You grip your head as a wave of nausea and strains run through you, swap. switch. tag out. can't. stay. I'm, sorry.)

(Was Ramos tugging at the star?)

"Loop!!!" (The Housemaiden ran over to you, a hand helping you up.)

(Your head. . .)

(Haha. . . You were going to diiiiieeeee~)

(You collapse back to the ground, gasping for air, keep breathing, c'mon, Loop, you need to keep breathing. Stupid, dumb. No, not stupid, it had a good Idea. Hah, Mal was being safe, and yet it still got hit. Actually, physically that hit wasn't that bad. But the lingering mind craft was still giving you waves of unease.)

(You feel the ground shake, you look up. The Carpenter had ran past you, charging at the Sadness, the Housemaiden cried out to stop her but, too late. She swung with her hammer and, sure, it hit, but the sadness just turned around and threw her accross the yard.)

(You're going to die. You're going to die again, and, and you won't be able to win.)

(The housemaiden, her name, what was her name! She stood between you and the sadness, hah, she was as weak to that thing as you were. She was so brave. . .)

(The sadness was coming towards you.)

(You're going to die.)

"Hey!!!" (Your Defender came swinging in from the side, striking at the sadness chest.)

(The sadness moved back, looked at the Defender, and attacked. It slashed acrross his chest, he tumbled backwards.)

(No, nonononononono.)

(The Housemaiden rushed forward, slicing at the sadness again and again. But, but, but the sadnnes just threw her to the side.)

(NO, NO, NO!!!)

(In Tears, And Time.)

(Blood. And. Stars.)

(You're going to die You're going to die You're going to die You're going to die You're going to die You're going to die You're going to die You're going to die You're going to die You're going to die You're going to die You're going to die You're going to die-)

"H-Hah! Good hit, buddy."

(. . . What. . . ?)

(The sadness stepped back and turned. Your Defender was standing up, he, he should be KOed, by all rights he should be, but. But he's still here, standing. His face, you could tell he was straining. The sadness screamed at him.)

(He closed his eyes, straining, but, he didn't fall.)

"I'm, I-I'm not, giving up, buddy. Rams."

(What, what is he. . .)

(The sadness attacked again, but the Defender, he wasn't even phased, he blocked them.) "I'm, I'm not gonna give up on you, buddy!!"

(He's, he, he-)

"You promised to never forget you're strong! So I promise, I'll be there for ya when you can't!!"

(. . . Isabeau. . .)

"We're gonna find a way to help you! And we're gonna fix this, we're gonna do it! And we're gonna do it together!!"

(He strikes a pose- Wait, that's--)

"We're gonna win!! Together!!!"

(It is. Stars, it is! It's that, it's that skill! That one Stardust always was able to get but YOU WEREN'T!!! IT's, IT-)

(You feel warmth through your veins. You stand up.)

(You're going to win.)

(You're going to win if it killed you.)

(Keep going.)

"Isa!!" (You yell as you run.) "Ramos!! What'd they say about the star!!"

"Huh?!?" (He turns to you as you get to his side.) "He said someone gave it to them!"

(Someone GAVE it to them?)

(Wishes aren't given. You're given the tools for them. Wishes aren't an item. Wishes- It's not a wish.)

(IT'S NOT A WISH!)

(IT'S, IT'S A TRICK!!)

"I GOT IT!!" (You smile, hehehehe. You had a plan. You rushed at the sadness, it screamed and lashed out at you.)

"Loop what-" (Isa yells, running to catch up.)

(You sidestep it, focus, focus. You grab onto the sadness tendrils, hopefully your gloves would be enough to stop the mind craft.)

"I have a plan!!" (You yell back,) "Try keeping it distracted!!"

(Isa nods. You lift yourself up onto the sadness' body. It's writhing, screaming, rattling through your head but still you persist. Not, yet. Isabeau strikes at the sadness, distracting it.)

(Hand, over hand, you grab onto the sadness head, it screams again, so loud. You feel numb, your legs, your fingers, just, keep, your, grip. Just, think, one thing, one target.)

"L-loop!!!" (You feel warmth wash over you, looking back, Mirabelle had ran over to help and healed you.) "P-please just be careful!!"

(You were way past careful. You pull yourself up, once, twice, again, again.)

(You grab onto the star upon its head, and tug.)

(It comes free.)

(You fly back off of the sadness, tumbling to the ground. You could feel the second wind of energy starting to dwindle again, but just a little bit more, please. You lift your head up to look.)

(The star landed at Isabeaus foot, The Sadness, it looked maddened. It charged at Isabeau, screaming.)

(Isabeau opened his arms.)

(As soon as it started, it was over, in a flash of light.)

(Ramos tumbled into Isabeaus arms, crying their brains out.)

(. . .)

(Did. . . Did you Win?)

(. . . You breathe out.)

(Mirabelle is now level 46)

(Odile is now level 46)

(Isabeau is now level 46. . . And learned the skill "WE! WILL! WIN!!!")

(Nille is now level 19)

"Loop!!!" (Mirabelle ran over to you and offered a hand, you took it. She helped you to your feet.) "A-are you alright?!?! Are you hurt?!? Where are you-"

"Slow down, Mira, I'm fine-" (Both a lie and too late. She was already fussing over a gash in your side. When did you get that?)

"You are absolutely not fine!!! You look like, like-!!"

"Hey go easy on em'." (Nille said, Bonnie was helping her over.) "Did just save the day after all."

(It, it's not over though, right?)

"THAT WAS SO COOL!!!" (Bonnie, by contrast, was full of energy and a-okay.) "I didn't know you could do stuff like that!!"

(It, it couldn't have been that easy.)

(You hid your face in your cloak.) "It was just a hunch it would work." (Stars, you feel so tired.)

"!!!!" (Mirabelle went running to Odile. Looking over, she was sitting on the grass rubbing her head.)

(It just, couldn't have been that easy.)

"Hah, healers job is never done I guess." (Nille said cheekily.)

(Bonnie turned to you.) "Dontch'ya know healing craft too?"

(Oh right.) "Oh! Are, are you two hurt?"

"I'll be fine, had a tonic. And my heads clearing up." (Nille said with a thumbs up.) "Those two though. . ."

(She gestured to Isabeau and Ramos. You could hear Ramos cries from here.)

"R-right. . ."

(You head over to them. Isa looks up as you approach. He looked, so, so happy.)

". . . It, it worked!" (He smiled at you.)

(It, it was that easy?!?)

(It, it can't have been, right?!?)

(He continued.) "I, I feel fine, Ramos is shaken up but fine. What about you? Any effects?"

(You stare at him. He's, fine? Ramos is fine? What? You, you felt. . .)

(Isa tilts his head.) ". . . Loop-"

"We won?" (You ask.)

(He's giving you the biggest smile you've ever see.) "Yeah!! We won!!"

(But, but that was, so fast. How did, how did you do it? It, this can't be it, right? You'll smell burnt sugar soon or see something red or-)

". . . H-hey. . ."

(You look down, Ramos had turned to look at you. They looked like a mess, they were crying still. They looked, they looked-)

"I-I'm, I'm sorry." (They mumble.)

(After all that. They're sorry. After all that time. After all that pain. That, that-)

"Y-you, you're. . ." (You say, feel dizzy.)

"Hey, Loop are you okay?" (Isabeau asks.)

"You're so, so. . . (The world is spinning.)

(You can't think straight. You feel numb. You can't feel your legs, your arms, you can't, can't, can't. . .)

"Yyyou're so, stuupid. . ."

(Curtains fall. Piper; payed.)

(You black out.)

[torturedblue]

Just got to the end of season 1 of Rise yet again, and this time it’s really given me some extra thoughts and perspective about Leo’s behavior in the movie…

So we know at first Leo is goofing around like he usually does after the Dark Armor spits Draxum out. Undoubtedly with a huge boost of confidence from just defeating their Big Bad season 1 villain by merely creating total chaos and throwing plans out the window. After all, “we be we” right? Which leads Splinter and Raph to yell at him a lot while he just constantly insists “they’ve got this”. Which, sure, but Leo baby you have to actually fight and get focused for that to be true 😂 But it keeps Splinter’s doubts up all the while they’re moving through the Battle Nexus arc, and Leo doesn’t really get Splinter’s approval for his while big plan until he proves he knew what he was talking about all along and the Nexus crowd is cheering them on

“They love ya, Pops!”

“It was all you my son!”

They spend scene after scene with Leo insisting they’ve got this while working his Face Man routine on the Spiderwoman up until he gets thrown in the “kraken’s den” with Rat Jitsu and it’s not until then after he says it was all part of his plan and Splinter again doubts him, that Leo’s had enough of his lack of faith and failure to really pay attention to his strategies enough to say “How come no one trusts me? None of you have any faith in me, why?” Which, ouch.

And it’s kind of the same when they get back to the rest of the team. We know Raph was very unhappy with Leo bouncing on them even though the plan was actually Splinter’s, and as soon as they get back he chews Leo out for leaving them high and dry. Thus Leo’s “when I said you guys got this I meant that” speech. Raph remarks about how accurate Leo’s guesses were about how things went when they were gone, and when Shredder shows up again Raph asks if Leo’s sure about this to which he replies yet again “Trust me.” And while it may be with a confident grin, after all the previous events of the episode it makes me sad to hear the way Leo asks for trust again.

(Which, I love my guy Raph, but after watching him also doubt Leo for the whole episode it does make it hard to believe when he finally says he does)

And I could go off on a whole other tangent about Bug Busters and how Leo saw everything that Big Mama did coming beforehand unlike his brothers—like altering the terms of the deal Raph made with her at the last second—which allowed him to expect exactly that in Many Unhappy Returns and outsmart her… but I don’t think I need to.

So even though Leo doesn’t see it as much with Raph, he really had to work to earn his Sensei’s and his leader’s trust as a reliable team member. Now to be fair, he did keep his plan on the DL from Splinter up until the end, which makes it a little more unbeatable, but I always felt like he did that because someone who worked for Big Mama was always around and blabbing about what he was going to do around any of them wouldn’t have been smart.

And interestingly enough, the only episodes Raph does use him to do his Face Man thing are after all this, in Todd Scouts and Pizza Puffs, but I don’t think Raph ever did that in season one. “Go in there and do what you do best: face!” This leads me to think it’s the season 1 finale events that showed Raph Leo’s people skills and cleverness really were more useful than he thought

Looking back on all of this it really makes clear now more than ever why Leo had such hesitation about accepting his promotion to leader and acting accordingly.

Because Leo’s proven to know his family a lot better than they know him… which is actually really saddening

Even if you set aside all the other aspects of Leo being used to getting to take it easy, or seeing how when things get really serious the pressure of leadership can really get to you, or how people can actually die, like in the season 2 finale. At the end of the day we know Leo’s insecurity comes a lot from thinking his brothers or family don’t believe in him, so even after being given the leader role, how is he supposed to believe in himself?

[ghostaholics]

for soulmate au:

would johnn and reader cross paths again and if they would what would it look likee

would they maybe find a way to love eachother despite johnn's proffesion

𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒖

here’s more on what happens between them

After their long talk, they decide to regrettably, but amicably part ways – neither of them like the circumstances, but they agree it’s for the best. She sends him off with a hug; they hold onto each other for a little bit longer than they should. It tides them over for maybe a week. Cue a whole montage of them in their respective places unable to adjust back to normal life for a while.

Then, as previously mentioned, it starts to hurt. At first, it starts off like a little twinge – a bones-deep sadness that comes and goes every so often but she tries to ignore the feeling. It gets worse not long after, a visceral chest pain that’s so awful it sends her straight to A&E; she thinks she might be having a heart attack. Who’s your emergency contact? they question. Don’t have one, she says, and it sends another stab of pain through her. The entire hospitalization is about a day-long affair. They run every test in the book, they give her clot-busters, vasodilators — hell, they’re contemplating cutting her open for invasive procedures even though the labs don’t say she’s had a myocardial infarction, just an EKG that had some anomalies but everything else was fine. Someone, a cardiologist maybe, has the sense to ask, How’s your soulmate? And she replies in a grim tone, ‘We don’t talk.’ Well, there’s the problem.

Price caves. He caves so fucking bad; calls her up (they’d agreed only to contact each other for emergencies), because to be honest, he wasn’t sure if it was just him or if she’d been feeling it too – emotional pain was never in the books but it seems like now it is. This is new. This is bad. His voice is gruff like usual but the concern is evident behind his words. And the second they hear each other down the line, there’s a weight that’s been lifted – the pain dulls. Relief. Not quite gone altogether, but more manageable. Neither of them feel like they’re on the brink of death anymore. And there are just shaky breaths being exchanged on both ends as they try to come to grips with what’s been happening. So, cutting all contact, going cold-turkey, is clearly not going to work for either of them. They know they can’t be doing this, but the more they talk over the phone, the easier it gets to breathe, to function normally. And so it begins.

Their relationship runs on a schedule; a loophole – every Sunday, 0600 her time. They count it down, too. Exactly one hour. Just enough for them to keep the pain at bay, to go about their lives until the next call. Sometimes longer when he knows he's about to go off-the-grid for a mission and won't make the usual Sunday time. They talk about anything and everything: she usually talks about her personal life, old stories from her past, what she’s making for breakfast, what her plans are for the week, and him – stuff about the 141 (never anything confidential or gory) like what sort of antics they get up to, spends an entire call telling her about Villa Claras and why they’re the superior cigar (kind of a nerd about those, whiskey, and the Reds, which she finds endearing – actually very knowledgeable regarding many things that he can talk her ear off about for hours). She falls in love with his voice first, the rest comes after slowly.

The more times they use this loophole, the weaker it gets. It starts off with him asking for five more minutes; yeah, he hears the alarm go off. Maybe a little bit longer will buy him more time throughout the week until the next call. Nothing they haven’t done before. But five turns into ten the week after, then twenty, and so forth. She says his name softly, interrupts him when they reach 0930 during one of their talks. I know what you're doing John. We can't. And here's the thing: it's a case of 'she fell first, but he fell harder.'

It doesn't last as long anymore; three days now until the longing starts back up again. And he calls her. He fucking calls her in the middle of the week on a Wednesday. John— She feels it too. I had to hear your voice again, he says with urgency. Because he just couldn't fucking help himself.

So they schedule something for Wednesdays. It'll help. It should. And it does, for all of two weeks until the same bloody thing happens again. This isn't sustainable. He knows that he’s not going to retire anytime soon, and even more that that – he knows that she shouldn't be doomed to live this kind of life. Not for for him, but most especially not fair for her. It's like she said, isn't it? She waited an entire lifetime for him. Why keep putting her through that? So he mentions this, kills him to do it: you deserve better; I know there's someone out there who can give you the things that I can't (Sunday mornings face-to-face over tea, to be near one another in a way where they can see the other's okay, where the hurt is non-existent; intimacy and affection and proper romance; marriage, growing old together, something quiet and normal.) She's already taken on his pain. He figures that it's his turn to bear it for the both of them now.

She tells him, without reservation, that it's the stupidest thing he's ever said. And before time's up for this call she uses the last few minutes to admit what's been on her mind lately. I don't want any of that stuff if it's not with you. What would be the point? It took me a while but I've finally figured out what soulmates are for; not for all the things you've said, as nice as they are – or would be; it’s simple, really. I was put on this earth to love you and I think that I've fulfilled my purpose. Nothing else matters.

She waits for his call on Sunday, 0600 on the dot – he's always punctual, she knows; this time is no different. But she doesn't even get a 'hello' out before he speaks into the phone: I'm outside.