and go on your way

I’m already in love with this game. It hits real hard as a young adult. Mae is a fantastic protagonist.

6

ROBINS + LABELS (Happy birthday, @henwick aka my sweet smol child!)

6

All the hard work and dedication is for living fully his last year as a high school student 

  • What She Says: I'm Fine.
  • What She Means: Barney and Robin were the most awesome god damn couple ever and they should not have broken apart just because of a simple travel issue. I find it hurtful that the writers would literally spend an entire season focused on these two's wedding and then within the first 10 minutes of the episode directly following the ceremony have them break up (while also breaking hearts) just so that they can put Robin with a half-fast reunitement of Robin and Ted despite Ted already being with the most perfect human being ever. So what do they do? They kill her off, just so they can put these two characters who have had no success in romantic relationships with each other. So not only do they destroy one adorable and beloved couple but two. Yes, I am still bitter over this.
Find a Valentine This Year

Buzzfeed’s Supergirl Character Quiz is like a mini-supergay speed dating site:

  • Kara’s meet Lena’s or Cat’s
  • Alex’s meet Maggie’s
  • Lucy’s meet Alex’s or Kara’s 
  • M’gann’s meet everyone
2

McHanzo Week Day 1: First kiss 

Also! I promised @schmogg long ago that I’d do a drawing inspired by their sweet gifset, so here it is! Sorry for the delay <3

youtube

Okay I know everyone wanted to keep the song “Unstoppable” in the movie and believe me its a damn shame it was cut, but I think that the song ”More” NEEDED TO BE IN THE MOVIE BECAUSE HOLY SHIT IS IT HEARTBREAKING AND MAKES ME CRY LIKE A LITTLE BITCH! 

- It explains that Moana was given her name by Grandma Tala meaning “Ocean” and not given by her dad that wanted her to stay away from it 

- It hurts because she’s talking about the one person who truly supported her in everything Moana believed in 

- I MEAN HER GRANDMA JUST DIED AND SHE KNOWS SHE MUST COMPLETE HER CALLING MOANA IS STRONG AF

- Just the evolution of the song is amazing it goes from Moana recognizing all that her grandmother has taught her and how she wished she could stay and guide her

- Then it becomes extremely powerful as she is determined to lead her people as a true chief and fufill her duty to the sea and her tribe 

- Marcy Harriel does a beautiful rendition of the song I mean the way her voice breaks makes you bawl and how strong she belts out just makes you shook 

-BUT IMAGINE IF AULI’I CRAVALHO SANG IT ABSOLUTE  PERFECTION!!

- I’ve memorized the entire lyrics and it’s in the soundtrack and movie to me because I don’t give a fuck it didn’t deserved to be cut 

For being someone who’s always sleeping or talking about sleeping or wishing he were asleep Aizawa sure likes being up late at night, doesn’t he

who would have thought I’d have found yet another reason for finding this man relatable

A Note From Gerard Way about My Chemical Romance's breakup if you haven't read it yet

A note from Gerard Way about My Chemical Romance’s breakup:

A Vigil, On Birds and Glass.
I woke up this morning still dreaming, or not fully aware of myself just yet. The sun poked through the windows, touching my face, and then a deep sadness overcame me, immediately, bringing me to life and realization- My Chemical Romance had ended.
I walked downstairs to do the only thing I could think of to regain composure-
I made coffee.
As the drip began, in that kind of silence that only happens in the morning, and being the only one awake, I stepped outside my home, leaving the door open behind me. I looked around and began to breathe. Things looked to be about the same- a beautiful day.
As I turned to step back into the house I heard sound from within, a chirp and a rustle. And I noticed a small brown bird had flown into the library. Naturally, I panicked. I knew I had to see the bird to safety and I knew I had to retain the order of things in our home, and he very well couldn’t take up residency with us. I chased him (still assuming he was a he) into my office, where I have these very large windows.
Just then, and luckily, I heard Lindsey’s footsteps coming down the stairs, and naturally being composed as she is, she grabbed a blanket and stepped into the office. He was impossible to catch, and I began to open the windows, via Lindsey’s direction, only to find out they were screened. The bird began to fly into the glass, over and over and in all different directions.
Smack.
Smack.
Smack!
I heard another set of footsteps, Bandit’s, running down the stairs in anticipation of the new day. Her entrance into the situation caused just the right amount of chaos (she was very excited to meet the bird) and we found ourselves chasing the bird into the living room. Knowing that this where it could potentially get sticky, being the high ceilings and the beams to perch on, I opened the front door as Lindsey did her best to encourage our new friend out the door. After some coaxing, flying, chirping, a wrong turn back into the library and a short goodbye to Bandit, he simply hopped out the front door- taking off on the fifth leap.
We cheered.
I was no longer sad.
I didn’t realize it, but I stopped being sad the minute that bird had come into my life, because there was something that needed doing, a small vessel to aid and an order to keep. I closed the door. I decided to write the letter I always knew I would.

[[/MORE]]

It is often my nature to be abstract, hidden in plain sight, or nowhere at all. I have always felt that the art I have made (alone or with friends) contains all of my intent when executed properly, and thus, no explanation required. It is simply not in my nature to excuse, explain, or justify any action I have taken as a result of thinking it through with a clear head, and in my truth.
I had always felt this situation involving the end of this band would be different, in the eventuality it happened. I would be cryptic in its existence, and open upon its death.

The clearest actions come from truth, not obligation. And the truth of the matter is that I love every one of you.
So, if this finds you well, and sheds some light on anything, or my personal account and feelings on the matter, then it is out of this love, mutual and shared, not duty.
Love.
This was always my intent.

My Chemical Romance: 2001-2013

We were spectacular.
Every show I knew this, every show I felt it with or without external confirmation.
There were some clunkers, sometimes our secondhand gear broke, sometimes I had no voice- we were still great. It is this belief that made us who we were, but also many other things, all of them vital-
And all of the things that made us great were the very things that were going to end us-

Fiction. Friction. Creation. Destruction. Opposition. Aggression. Ambition. Heart. Hate. Courage. Spite. Beauty. Desperation. LOVE. Fear. Glamour. Weakness. Hope.

Fatalism.

That last one is very important. My Chemical Romance had, built within its core, a fail-safe. A doomsday device, should certain events occur or cease occurring, would detonate. I shared knowledge of this “flaw” within weeks of its inception.
Personally, I embraced it because, again, it made us perfect. A perfect machine, beautiful, yet self aware of it’s system. Under directive to terminate before it becomes compromised. To protect the idea- at all costs. This probably sounds like something ripped from the pages of a four-color comic book, and that’s the point.
No compromise. No surrender. No fucking shit.

To me that’s rock and roll. And I believe in rock and roll.

I wasn’t shy about who I said this to, not the press, or a fan, or a relative. It’s in the lyrics, it’s in the banter. I often watched the journalists snicker at mention of it, assuming I was being sensational or melodramatic (in their defense I was most likely dressed as an apocalyptic marching-band leader with a tear-away hospital gown and a face covered in expressionist paint, so fair enough).
I’m still not sure if the mechanism worked correctly, because it wasn’t a bang but a much slower process. But still the same result, and still for the same reason-

When it’s time, we stop.

It is important to understand that for us, the opinion on whether or not it is in fact time does not transmit from the audience. Again, this is to protect the idea for the benefit of the audience. Many a band have waited for external confirmation that it is time to hang it up, via ticket sales, chart positioning, boos and bottles of urine- input that holds no sway for us, and often too late when it comes anyway.

You should know it in your being, if you listen to the truth inside you. And voice inside became louder than the music.

Now-
There are many reasons My Chemical Romance ended. The triggerman is unimportant, as was always the messengers- but the message, again as always, is the important thing. But to reiterate, this is my account, my reasons and my feelings. And I can assure you there was no divorce, argument, failure, accident, villain, or knife in the back that caused this, again this was no one’s fault, and it had been quietly in the works, whether we knew it or not, long before any sensationalism, scandal, or rumor.

There wasn’t even a blaze of glory in a hail of bullets…

I am backstage in Asbury Park, New Jersey. It is Saturday, May 19th, 2012 and I am pacing behind a massive black curtain that leads to the stage. I feel the breeze from the ocean find its way around me and I look down at my arms, which are covered in fresh gauze due to a losing battle with a heat rash, which had been a mysterious problem in recent months. I am normally not nervous before a show but I am certainly filled with angry butterflies most of the time. This is different- a strange anxiety jetting through me that I can only imagine is the sixth sense one feels before their last moments alive. My pupils have zeroed-out and I have ceased blinking. My body temperature is icy.
We get the cue to hit the stage.

The show is… good. Not great, not bad, just good. The first thing I notice take me by surprise is not the enormous amount of people in front of us but off to my left- the shore and the vastness of the ocean. Much more blue than I remembered as a boy. The sky is just as vibrant. I perform, semi-automatically, and something is wrong.
I am acting. I never act on stage, even when it appears that I am, even when I’m hamming it up or delivering a soliloquy. Suddenly, I have become highly self-aware, almost as if waking from a dream. I began to move faster, more frantic, reckless- trying to shake it off- but all it began to create was silence. The amps, the cheers, all began to fade.

All that what left was the voice inside, and I could hear it clearly. It didn’t have to yell- it whispered, and said to me briefly, plainly, and kindly- what it had to say.

What it said is between me and the voice.

I ignored it, and the following months were full of suffering for me- I hollowed out, stopped listening to music, never picked up a pencil, started slipping into old habits. All of the vibrancy I used to see became de-saturated. Lost. I used to see art or magic in everything, especially the mundane- the ability was buried under wreckage.

Slowly, once I had done enough damage to myself, I began to climb out of the hole. Clean. When I made it out, the only thing left inside was the voice, and for the second time in my life, I no longer ignored it- because it was my own.

There are many roles for all of us to play in this ending. We can be well-wishers, ill-wishers, sympathizers, vilifiers, comedians, rain clouds, victims-

That last one, again, is important. I have never thought myself a victim, nor my comrades, nor the fans- especially not the fans. For us to adopt that role right now would legitimize everything the tabloids have tried to name us. More importantly, it completely misses the point of the band. And then what have we learned?

With honor, integrity, closure, and on no one’s terms but our own- the door closes.

And another opens-

This morning I awoke early. I quickly brushed my teeth, threw on some baggy jeans, and hopped in my car. I gently sped down the 405 through the morning fog to a random parking lot in Palo Verde, where I was to meet a nice gentleman named Norm. He was older, and a self-proclaimed “hippie” but he also had the energy of Sixteen year old in a garage-rock band. The purpose of the meeting was the delivery of an amplifier into my possession. I had recently purchased the amp from him and we both agreed that shipping would jostle the tubes- so he was kind enough to meet me in the middle.
A Fender Princeton Amp from 1965, non reverb. A beautiful little device.

He showed me the finer points, the speaker, the non-grounded plug, the original label and the chalk mark of the man or woman who built it-

“This amp talks.” he said.
I smiled.
We got coffee, talked about gold-foil pickups and life. We sat in the car and played each other music we had made. We parted ways, promising to stay in touch, I drove home.

When I wanted to start My Chemical Romance, I began by sitting in my parent’s basement, picking up an instrument I had long abandoned for the brush- a guitar. It was a 90’s Fender Mexican Stratocaster, Lake Placid Blue, but in my youth I had decided it was too clean and pretty so I beat it up, exposing some of the red paint underneath the blue- the color it was meant to be. Adding a piece of duct tape on the pick guard, it felt acceptable. I plugged this into a baby Crate Amp with built in distortion and began the first chords of Skylines and Turnstiles.

I still have that guitar, and it’s sitting next to The Princeton.
He has a voice, and I would like to hear what it has to say.

In closing, I want to thank every single fan. I have learned from you, maybe more than you think you’ve learned from me. My only regret is that I am awful with names and bad with goodbyes. But I never forget a face, or a feeling- and that is what I have left from all of you.
I feel Love.

I feel love for you, for our crew, our team, and for every single human being I have shared the band and stage with-

Ray. Mikey. Frank. Matt. Bob. James. Todd. Cortez. Tucker. Pete. Michael. Jarrod.

Since I am bad with goodbyes. I refuse to let this be one. But I will leave you with one last thing-

My Chemical Romance is done. But it can never die.
It is alive in me, in the guys, and it is alive inside all of you.
I always knew that, and I think you did too.

Because it is not a band-
it is an idea.

Love,
Gerard

The Flash!AU Nobody Asked For

ok ok I’m gonna need you to stop scrolling bc i’ve been binge watching the Flash like crazy and I was like, yanno, spence what if keith was the flash??? scarlet speedster, red paladin?? hELLO?? and now i have these headcanons i need to get off my chest and i’m typing really fast to get them all down so get your asses ready for the Flash!AU nobody fucking asked for but y’all are getting anyways oK lETS GO

  • so some backstory: Keith is a 20 year old uni student who goes to Garrison Tech, majoring in astronomy and mechanical engineering; he used to live with his adoptive older brother Takashi, but the latter went missing a few months prior to the Incident™, so now he lives on his own; growing up, he and Takashi lived on their own next to the Sanchez family, who practically adopted them as one of their own
  • he got his powers from a particle accelerator “accidentally” exploding at Altea Labs; he was hit with the blast while on his way to university and got his ass knocked into a coma for almost an entire year
  • he was transferred from the hospital to Altea Labs, seeing as the Sanchez family weren’t qualified to keep paying his medixal bills, seeing as they weren’t legally family (Mama Sanchez almost punched the doctor when they told her this?
  • when he finally woke up, Keith realized he wasn’t in any hospital, and that he was strapped down to a table; he tried to escape, only to end up blowing a hole through the side of a room he was being kept in
  • Pidge and Hunk, the only two lab techs who stayed at the labs even after it closed down, tried to calm him down, but Keith ended up running off somewhere before they could actually explain what had happened to him
  • after running into a few buildings and maybe destroying a bridge, Keith ends up at the Sanchez house, where he finds his childhood friend/mortal enemy, Lance; he’s about to get Lance’s attention and tell him that he’s here, that he’s somehow still alive, but he gets knocked out and hauled back to Altea Labs
  • this time when we wakes up, it’s not just Pidge and Lance with a tazer gun at the ready in case he tries to escape again, but the founder of Altea Labs, Alfor, is there
  • this time, they’re able to explain to Keith what actually happened; he got hit with the blast and his cells were altered at a molecular level, and now he can literally break the sound barrier, which would be really awesome and so so so amazing, except it’s n o t
  • Keith doesn’t want superpowers, he just wants to be normal, he wants to go to uni and graduate and he wants to pay off his debts to the Sanchez family and maybe marry Lance but he doesn’t want to be some superhuman
  • except now he doesn’t have a choice, because realtering his cells and take away what’s giving him powers would probably kill him, or at least render him useless in some way
  • so now, Keith is stuck with powers he doesn’t want and a secret he doesn’t need, but you know, it can’t be that bad - at least he doesn’t have to fight anyone, right?
  • w r o n g
  • shortly after Alfor and the two tech geeks tell him about his powers and start training him to control the Speed Force, these new mutants start popping up around the city; metahumans, people who were affected by the explosion in the same way he was, except they use their powers to commit crimes, and now Keith has this responsibility to stop them
  • at first, he absolutely refuses to fight them
  • don’t get him wrong, being a superhero sounds great, but there is no way in hell that he’s going up against a seven foot tall monster who can control freaking f i r e
  • but then, while making his way downtown (walking fast, walking faster) he sees the meta attacking a preschool - and not just any preschool, but the preschool where Lance works at
  • oh shit
  • Keith manages to rush into the preschool and save most of the afternoon class, but when he turns to make sure Lance is okay, he realizes that he’s not there
  • Lance had noticed that one of the children was still inside the building, about to be freaking m a u l e d by the metahuman, and rushed back in to save him without a moment’s hesitation
  • the child manages to run to safety, but Lance isn’t so lucky - he’s caught by the meta, and is being pounded into the wall
  • something snaps inside Keith, and he bolts into the preschool, beating the meta into next year (literally) saving Lance from dying (what a hero, what a man)
  • Lance, ofc, doesn’t remember the face of the “mysterious man” who saved him, bc yanno, why not
  • after almost seeing the love of his life Lance almost get killed by someone whose just like him, Keith relents; he goes back to Altea Labs, and agrees to help stop the corrupt metas who were created from the blast
  • “It was amazing! I swear I was going to die - Juan, this is all your fault by the way - but he saved me! Like, like a knight in shining armor! And a mullet! Saving the day in…in..” “In a flash?” “Yes! In a flash!”
  • and thus, the Flash was born

Drink up, buttercup. You’re about to get all the Mr. Wednesday you can handle.