#i'm shaken

[paradeie]

Listening to Daybreaker Anthem in-game is a spiritual experience, I think. WOW. I got chills when they started singing Anarchy Rainbow. So, so beautiful. It's like the whole world is greeting the morning sun…

The Splatoon OST just keeps on delivering aaargh!! I've gotta hang around after Splatfests now…

[sleepyjuniper]

I just had two dreams in quick succession that had me groggily coming out of them with tears in my eyes. Both of them centered around some symbol that was clearly of importance to me, but that I don't actually recognize. One I saved from its own guilt so I could embrace it again, and the other I tried to nurture back to health when she was on her last limb. Both dreams spoke to how much I cared about the figures in them— but I don't know that fox, I don't know that tree. Why did I want to reconnect with them so badly? Why did I want to save them so badly?

[nanabanonana]

this is horrific.

[vatican-penis-vault]

I did NOT just find out that there is a DC character called Milkman Man, who was conceived because two "unreal" women kissed? And then he was a villain in an arc called Milk Wars?????

And Gerard Way helped create him????????

[shotmrmiller]

ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.

soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)

interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?

"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."

soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.

"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.

soap nods. "ah'll be there."

"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."

yeah, he'd hate to have that.

soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.

maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.

"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.

simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"

soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."

the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.

you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.

"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."

you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."

your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-

"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"

he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.

"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."

you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.

"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"

[paintbrushnebula]

Ok. I'm officially scared, now.

DISCLAIMER (9/18/24): THIS NEWS IS FAKE. The article that these news sites were spreading (@TheInSneider on Twitter) has been confirmed false by executive producer/co-writer Christopher Miller and composer Daniel Pemberton.

Chrisopher Miller on Twitter:

[wandixx]

Danny, the Young Justice member snippet nr 2

these snippets aren't connected in anyway but just some little scenes I came up with, everyone is welcome to build up on them if they want to

Trigger warning: death mentioned, self-harm mentioned, idk, Danny gets flashback to portal incident

unrelated snippet nr 1, unrelated snippet nr 3 (?)

Out, out, out.

He tripped over his own legs and almost fell and it didn’t matter because he needed to get out. 

Away, away, away. 

He wasn’t sure if he ran or flew or dragged himself on the rough floor but he had to get away. His back hit a wall and he couldn’t get past it, intangibility just out of his grasp.

He logically knew that Zeta Tube wasn't the same as the portal but it was similar. So deadly similar.

He wasn’t sure when his own, corps-like, trembling with rigor mortis cold hands started rubbing his arms. He also wasn’t sure whether it was to comfort himself in this lonely self-hug or to try to rub hard enough that the hazmat and skin underneath would be torn, allowing him to see his own, red blood running in his veins. It was still red, right? It was still red, right? Of course it was still running, why wouldn’t it?

His knees gave up. He fell to the ground with quiet reverbatting thump, his eyes fixated on danger at the other side of the large room. He had to get further away but he couldn’t.

Because he was dying again.

Eyes full of tears and terror were jumping around, unable to see the room around him. Why couldn’t he see anything? Why were there only splashes of various colors, all contrasting with a light gray background. Were these people? Colors were moving, that seemed likely. Ghosts?! He had to get ready if these were ghosts he needed to fight them. People could be in danger and he couldn’t even stand without support. He started it, he had to take care of it, no matter how he felt right now.

His normally overly, unnaturally sensitive ears were filled with constant electric buzz from still active Zeta Tubes.

He was quite sure someone was yelling something but no matter what, Danny couldn’t understand what was being said. He tried looking around again but his teary eyes still failed him. There were no red stains though. Not in the right shade at least. No one was bleeding. It was okay for now.

Was it really? He hadn’t bled when he was dying had his accident though. It was all inside him, the crushing hollowness inside him and infinite outside pressure making his body implode. Ectoplasm bubbling in his mouth, throat, stomach and fingers, silencing his scream of agony and destroying his muscles. His limbs were limp and tense, twitching like a broken light bulb, out of his control but not out of his senses. It was so cold that it bit his bones and so hot that his skin was melting. There were screams so loud that it could shatter glass, as if every inhabitant of the Ghost Zone wanted to be heard and absolute suffocating silence. He was alone like nobody ever was and stuck in a stifling crowd that could stomp him to death any second. It was all contrasting, impossible but happening, existing together. He lived died it.

It was impossible, just like him.

There were others, they could help while Danny got himself together.

They couldn’t help if it was a ghost. He had to calm down and get ready to fight.

He couldn’t.

It was all happening again.

He was dying again.

It hurt to even think about.

Would it at least kill him for good?

Air he hadn’t needed before, not since his first death he always needed, like all functioning, alive human beings, got stuck in his lungs. He was gasping for it, choking on it. There was something stuck in his throat. SOme part of his brain that wasn’t screaming in agony and panic and loneliness had considered tearing his neck open just to get whatever was stuck swallowing but it didn’t help. 

He rubbed his arms harder. His eyes were locked on a blurred, still active portal. One of the color blobs moved, growing larger but he couldn’t think about what it meant. His arms hurt. It was good. Pain was grounding. In a gray room with few portals. Not the basement. Ghosts still could be there but it wasn't a basement. He still needed to get ready to fight

If he could feel pain, it meant he was alive, right? Ghosts never showed that they felt pain right? His parents always said they couldn’t.

He knew it was a lie but he felt like it was his last hope.

He realized that growing group of colors actually looked like a person but he had no way to tell whether they were alive or not. His ghost sense was quiet but he didn’t trust himself to not miss it. His throat was still shut tightly. His body kept twitching like a glitching character. No matter what, he couldn’t fight right then. He had to get himself together.

He scratched his arms almost violently.

Warm, soft, gentle hands pried his palms away from his arms. It wasn't a ghost. Ghosts weren't this gentle, this calmingly warm. Someone, someone who was alive, was crouching in front of him, face at the same level as his, hiding portals from his sight. Danny nearly sunk into their gentle touch.

“-om." their voice also was so gentle, filled with concern but firm enough to get to him over the buzz of portals. He tried to concentrate on this voice. He didn't want to hear portals.

"-ntom." It sounded like they were calling someone. He had to focus more to understand. Gentle grip on his wrists got more firm. There he was. He wouldn't feel it if he was dying again.

"Phantom." They called quietly, like little windbells Sam gave him as a birthday present. It was his name, they were asking him something he couldn't understand, something he couldn't do.

"I'm sorry."

He wasn't sure if any sound came out of his mouth.

Grip on his hands loosened a little, not enough for him to do anything about it, but enough to return to the pure feeling of safety and reassurance it gave him before.

“It's okay Phantom." they murmured. Danny nearly cried at their kindness and calmness. Air slowly started to fill his lungs again. It truly was okay, he wasn't dying again."Can you focus on five things you can see for me?"

He could do it. It wasn't much to repay the gentle person kneeling in front of him.

He blinked tears away and started the list in his head.

Black Canary in front of him.

Superboy in the middle of the room. He looked like he didn't know what to do.

Kid Flash next to him, ready to come to where Danny was shaking on the floor.

Robin and Artemis both made sure that Kid stayed where he was.

Miss Martian for sure feeling his panic and having trouble coping with this. He should calm down as soon as he can, he didn't want to cause any of his teammates too much stress.

Danny nodded, looking once again at the only adult hero in the room.

Molecules in his body were rearranging again. It all hurt.

"Thank you Phantom. Can you focus on four things you can hear?"

Five racing heartbeats.

One heartbeat that sounded more like buzz because of its speed. KF's heart was always weird.

Tapping of someone's feet.

Zeta Tubes.

He had been in the portal again, it had turned on with him inside again. He was dying again.

Next cautious nod.

"Alright. Now three things you can touch." Black Canary still sounded so calm, so sure she had it all under control. So contrary to her panicked heart. Danny wanted to believe her voice.

Canary's hands still on his wrists. In fact she was touching him more than he was her, but it still counted. There was some physics rule about it.

Cold stone he was sitting on. Weird, he was sure this cave was heated.

Hard wall pressing on his spine.

"Excellent. Two things you can smell?"

Jazz had done same exercise with him before.

Cookies made by Megan before she went on a mission.

Ectoplasm. Somewhere there was ectoplasm that wasn't inside him. He couldn't smell his own ecto. But there was no ghost in the cave. His sense was silent. It was there somehow else. It was concerning but not enough to make him panic again. They could handle it.

His lungs were still aching but air started filling them nearly as much as it did normally. His limbs stopped shaking so much too. He knew he wasn't dying this time. He was calming down.

"You're doing great Phantom. Now think, what's one thing you can taste?"

Aftertaste of ectoplasm he spat between the rough fight and the moment when Kid Flash rushed him to the nearest Zeta Tube, talking about medical attention. Danny tried to tell him, he didn't need that but he was inside before his explanation left his mouth.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah," It was all he was able to say at the moment. He truly felt better but that didn't mean good. It was only a little less bad than shitty, one step from fully dead.

I considered writing continuation with Danny explaining a bit what happened and how he even ended up in Zeta Tube but a) lost spark to rewrite it b) hated what already had But if you want, I can probably rub my remaining two braincels together and continue. Or someone else can. Do it if you want to. Do it. Do it

[royalarchivist]

Mike: I'll hold you son, I'll hold you son.

[They all "Awww"]

Mike: Increase the speed, increase the speed! I'm holding you. Faster faster faster! Faster! I'm holding my son, I'm holding my son! He's not gonna fall, he's not gonna fall– he's right here with me.

[Pac and Mike both laugh, and Fit smiles as he looks at both of them]

Fit: Yeah, doin' good!

Pac: Hold– oh my– Mike, if you don't hold him, he's gonna break, he's gonna break!

Fit: He's gonna get scrambled!

Mike: [Lets Richarlyson go temporarily and encourages him] Just kidding, just kidding, just kidding. Nice, you managed to endure the– [Pac stands behind Mike and hugs him] Oh, you're holding me!

Pac: If you fall–

Mike: Hold Pac Fit, hold Pac Fit!

Pac: Nobody gonna fall!

Fit: Okokokok there you go. [He hugs Pac from behind too, and they all laugh, cheering on Richarlyson]

[002yb]

Jason’s “please don’t pull out I have abandonment issues” vs Dick’s “not pulling out because I have separation anxiety”

( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

[cononeillbreastingboobily]

You don't get it, do you?

If you say that Izzy's death was a beautiful conclusion to his arc, that it was kind. You just. You don't fucking get it.

You don't get to say shit like that if you're able-bodied, and then ignore those of us who are disabled, and who liked Izzy, and are now angry and saddened by his death.

Do you think it was, I don't know... A humane way of ending things?

Well. If that's the case then, first of all, I don't want you anywhere near me. Second of all, I want you to sit with yourself and think, but like really think, about why you think it's more humane to kill off a physically disabled queer character rather than, I don't know, let him live out the rest of his life happily, getting more and more accustomed to his disability, overcoming his trauma and enjoying his life to the fullest.

Queerness and disability rarely intersect in media, unlike real life. For a few episodes, Izzy's arc gave so many of us hope. It was a beautiful, dazzling story of a man who's been through unimaginable horrors, who was only just starting to overcome his trauma, finding love, acceptance and community.

Do you know how rare it is to witness a story like that? To see yourself in a character, in a way that you've never felt seen by media before?

Now, can you imagine how much of a slap in the face it was when he died? And a death that, I might add, wasn't necessary for anyone's development, was anticlimactic, cruel, and, perhaps the most importantly, came way too early?

So, you don't get to tell us that we're overreacting after Izzy was killed off. You don't get to do that, because you just don't get it. We're hurting, and for a good reason. Because it's vile, and because if we don't speak up against it, nobody else will do it for us. You can sit in your own little corner, telling yourself that the season finale was good and satisfying, and that you're happy with the way it ended if it's indeed the series finale.

Meanwhile I'll stay here, thinking about how a beloved, queer, disabled character on a beloved queer show was put down with a gun like a horse with a broken leg.

But that was the kind thing to do, wasn't it?

[blitzwhore]

It's always fun experiencing severe mental illness symptoms because of fiction, eh?

[webonchin]

Thinking about Tv Girl coded Cablepool and the divorce arc

GUESS WHO'S BACK AT IT!!!

When the hyperfixation is hitting the brain hard once again, can't escape them ,never think I will

(pd this is not a end of the year kind of stuff is more of a starting the year kind of stuff ,you get me)

[snackugaki]

"sure you can get that... you got money for it?"

tmnt au shit below the cut

my tmnt au (where everyone made it past their 20s, splinter’s alive just old, venus is here, and they deserve some goddamn respite and shenanigans)

tmnt au part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

tmnt au omake 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

lny visit 1 | 2

[pianokantzart]

I posted something somewhere about Papa Mario’s “these are boys” line being wholesome (and made more so because of who voices the character!) and I got some comments from people who hated the line because it was clear Pio “didn’t give a shit” about either of his sons and only accepted them once they gave him something he could brag about. In other words, he only “cares” about them when they make him look good. I don’t think this is the case, and I get the feeling you don’t either. Can you do a brief analysis on the character given what little we’ve seen of him? :)

Yep, I 100% agree with you. Mario and Luigi's dad may have his flaws, but he definitely cares about his kids.

The thing about Pio is that he strikes me as the family patriarch? At least for as long as the grandpa has been in his twilight years. Not only does Pio appear a lot more emotionally restrained than Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur, but he's bulkier and moves with a lot less pep. Either he's a good number of years older than either of them, works a far more physically demanding job, or both. Whatever the case, he takes matters with a lot more gravity, and his lapse of judgement at the dinner table seemed to be out of genuine worry rather than disdain or apathy. At first he did his best to talk about anything other than Mario's failing plumbing business, keeping his head down and eating his pasta while everyone else was either defending or teasing Mario and Luigi.

It's only when Mario directly asks his dad for his opinion that he gets right to the heart of the matter:

"I think you're nuts. You don't leave a steady job for some crazy dream. And the worst part? You're bringing your brother down with you."

It's harsh, but you can tell he means well. This is not the face of a man who "doesn't give a sh*t." This may be a big joke to Arthur and Tony, but to Pio it's dead serious. Mario's taking a huge gamble with his and his brother's financial stability. Yes, this is Mario AND Luigi's dream, and Luigi is perfectly capable of making his own decisions... but it's clear who's leading the charge and making a lot of questionable choices along the way. If Pio has a place of headship in the family like I suspect, then this statement has a lot more weight to it– he knows what it is to have other people's wellbeing rely on you. It's important Mario understands that if this longshot fails, he won't be going down alone.

Did Mario already know this? Yep. Was telling him he was bringing his brother down a step too far? Absolutely, but Pio was not trying to emotionally gut his son the way he did.

When Mario storms off, he looks blindsided by the reaction.

When everyone stares at him in surprise he asks "what did I say?" in a tone of genuine confusion. This was meant to be a wakeup call for Mario, not a slap in the face. Apparently, Luigi's inability to read a room is hereditary.

But Pio's not a man of pure stoicism, he's still a hot-blooded Italian at his core, so of course he gets so excited when his kids appear out of nowhere to decimate a giant turtle dragon and his invading army??? (Please note the way he's leaning way too far out of that window in his excitement. It's lucky he's got good core strength or he'd be falling right out of the third story into what is still an active war zone.)

When the smoke clears both Mia and Pio are climbing over wreckage to get to Mario and Luigi, well before a crowd has gathered to cheer. The "these are my boys!" was a continuation of the pride Mario's dad had already expressed before he realized anyone else was watching. He has absolutely no idea what just happened, but anyone with eyes can see that Mario and Luigi just did something fantastic! And as much as Pio sees Mario in the leading role– responsible for his and his brother's failures– he also sees him as responsible for their victories.

So yeah. Conclusion: Mario's Dad is a flawed guy who makes big mistakes, but there's no doubt in my mind that he cares a lot about his kids.

[lylahammar]

haha uh oh we've reached the conversation

[alwayshappyhoursomewhere]

"Together with Stéphane" [x] [image description in the article: Shoma Uno holds a piece of paper with his hopes for the second half of the season, which says "together with Stéphane", in Beijing, China, on December 10, 2023.]

―This season you are focusing on expression, but do you actually feel like there is a dilemma between the skating that you want to do and the current rules? ◆Until last year, yes. I didn't like that what is considered as a good performance is 'jumping'. [...] But it's what we do within the rules. We have to be able to adapt to any rule. So I also want to practice according to the current rules. Until last year, my opinion clashed with Stéphane's on this aspect. I only wanted results, while Stéphane wanted me to work hard on expression as well. But expression doesn't really bring points. Until last year I was thinking, 'No, no, I have to focus on jumps'. Now I agree with Stéphane. I don't know if it's because I'm in a state of mind where I'm satisfied with my results, but now I'm going in the same direction as Stéphane, so I want to do the things he wishes for."

―After your performance, you turn to coach Lambiel right away. Is that because you want to see his reaction first? ◆First of all, yes. This time, after the short program was over, he looked really delighted. He was really pleased after this free skate too, and I was really happy about that. There's a part of me that feels like I'm working hard for that. I guess that that kind of moments are what make me happy.

―Your fellow teammate Koshiro Shimada also said, "The goal of Shoma and I is to make Stéphane scream in excitement as much as possible.'' ◆Certainly (laughs). That's for sure.

―Does it motivate you to perform in a way that makes people around you happy? ◆Of course that's one of my motivations. However, making Stéphane happy is more like a "goal" than a motivation.

―You wrote "together with Stephane" on the cardboard. ◆This is my current state of mind. My heart, mind, and motivation are overflowing, and although this grand prix series made Stéphane really happy, I can still make him even happier. From now on, I want to do my best and work hard towards the next events together with Stéphane, and show the results in competition.

(Note: this was translated by me, but a much longer full translation has been shared here and here with more content than what I posted on tumblr)