#IT HAS COME PEOPLE IT HAS COME

[wish-you-were-a-better-man]

broppy kiss analysis (or, well, just me screaming into my laptop for an entire forty seconds straight while i mentally and physically replay this scene)

it has come people. it has come

watch me quote almost every line in that near 40-second clip

"so? how you feeling?" poppy gurl is just concerned for branch it's just RIDNGRSIHGNRSUIDGBEWGEOIWEWGFEHUI

and then branch just gives a whirlwind of feelings (HE OPENED UP HE OPENED UP HE OPENED UP WHY AM I THINKING ABOUT THE FORESHADOWING IN THE BEGINNING), and he looks SO SMITTEN. dude just be like 'i wont hide the fact that im smitten with the queen of pop and the mount rageons will know it'

"whoa! tmi! boundaries, my man; that's a lot of feelings!" girl the hands up just won me over. and BRANCH MY MAN THE LOOK U GAVE HER I SWEAR IM GONNA ROLL OVER AND SOB AND SQUEAL. AND THE WAY SHE REFERS TO HIM AS 'MY MAN' WAAAHHHH AND THE LOOKS THEY'RE SHOOTING EACH OTHER OH MY GOSH

the laugh. the laugh. the laugh. DUDE SOUNDS SO HOPELESSLY IN LOVE, and tbh their voices mix really well, just that his laugh drags on longer

THE KISS (DONT MIND MY CAPS LOL). THE PART I’VE BEEN LOOKING FORWARD TO. OH GOSH THE WAY SHE JUST PULLS HIS VEST AND BRINGS HIM CLOSE FOR THE KISS RIOGHRGSNIOFSIFANIODSANIODF AAAAAAAAAA. AND THE WAY HE LOOKS SO INTO IT LIKE I MEAN I PERSONALLY PERCEIVED IT AS A FIRST LIP KISS IF IT IS IM GONNA CRY AT HOW THEYRE SO IN SYNC (WOW BOYBAND PUN HERE)

AND POPPY LOOKS LIKE SHES SMILING IN THE KISS OH MY GUH-

NO WAIT BOTH OF THEM ARE

AND THEN HE HOLDS HER HANDS WAAAH IM SQUEALING EVEN HARDER NOW

ON THE MOUNT RAGEOUS SCREEN THEY LOOK LIKE THEY'RE SUBTLY SHIFTING AND THE MOUNT RAGEONS JUST CHEERING OH MY GOSH THEY SHIP BROPPY

THAT GIRL IN THE CENTRE WHOS JUST LIKE AWWW AND EVERYONE ELSE WHOS CLAPPING I HONOUR YALL

BRUCE AND CLAY FIST-BUMPING OR SOME SECRET HANDSHAKE AND SMILING AT THE TWO

AND JD AND FLOYD. FLOYD IS LITERALLY SHEDDING A TEAR (OF HAPPINESS? i don't know tbh) AND JD JUST PUTS HIS HAND ON HIS SHOULDER LIKE 'OKAY WE HAVE A COMMON TOPIC: BRANCH'S GIRLFRIEND'

GUYS BE PROUD BROZONE'S YOUNGEST MEMBER IS DATING THE QUEEN OF POP AND IS SHARING A KISS WITH HER ON SCREEN WITH EVERYONE WATCHING

AND THEY'RE ALL SMILING

RHONDA. OH, RHONDA. SHE JUST WENT WOOHOO AND LIKE MADE HER SOUND EVERYONE IS CELEBRATING

AND IN THAT SHOT BEFORE THEY PULL AWAY BRANCH IS SMILING AND POPPY IS IN DEEP AND WHEN THEY PULL AWAY IT'S JUST SO ADORABLE

anyways that's all for my rant

side note? branch looks cute with braids (he looks like some cute little girl). thank you viva for the wonderful hair-braiding skill :))

[markwateneymemorialcrater]

Please note. The orange one is not included because A. He isn’t a billionaire. And B. Calling him obnoxious is too kind for him.

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[idontmindifuforgetme]

Incredibly alarming that talks of “peace” in Gaza seem to extend no further than a ceasefire. How do you think they’re gonna start off where they left off themselves? Their houses are destroyed, so many have lost mothers and fathers and brothers and children, they still have no clean water and no food. Any area Israel withdraws out of is an area it already knows has been rendered inhospitable. There was even a direct quote by some IOF soldier gleefully stating how he “wasn’t sure Palestinians could go back to their homes.” So what happens when the US “succeeds at negotiating a ceasefire”? Who will be responsible for helping the Palestinians rebuild all that they’ve lost?

[platoapproved]

louis + cruelty

[mythicalcoolkid]

You don't wish your disability was worse or more visible, you wish your disability was taken seriously. Please stop confusing the two, I guarantee you would not get the support you need JUST by being more severe or more visible. Please listen to visibly disabled people when we tell you it isn't better on our side

[mellosghosts]

hes a little confused, but hes got the spirit 🫡

[egophiliac]

still ruminating over Lost In the Book With Spooky Skeletons Part 1, so here's a selection of some of my favorite little bits! (...some more loosely paraphrased than others) (I just feel like Idia has no room to criticize in general, okay)

anyway, I'm sure we're just going to have a fun time celebrating Halloween and nothing bad is going to happen whatsoever! :)

[girltakovic]

that smoking in public poll got me thinking. you don't get to waffle about being neutral with these options you gotta choose

i personally like the smell of weed but dislike the smell of cigarette/tobacco smoke, but combing through the notes on that poll indicates that this opinion may be unpopular! idk!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Just your average male living space.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[on-the-clear-blue]

Down in the streets of Gotham, in the side alley next to Express Urgent Care run by one Leslie Thompkins and that was funded by the Martha Wayne Foundation was a soup kitchen.

Well...a soup kitchen of sorts. Not in any way official but if you were hungry in Crime alley you knew that the food would be safe and warm...and it was a place where *you* could be safe and warm.

Danny had left a week after his parents found out that he was Phantom, a week after he had seen their grief, the regret and pain in their eyes. The week had been spent in suspense, he knew that they needed to talk about what had happened but neither of his parents were ever able to even start bringing it up before they were sobbing.

Danny knew his parents loved him, thst his father felt soul crushing guilt, that his mother spent hours staring at herself in the mirror, as if she didn't even know who was looking back at her.

And to spare them both, Danny left.

It wasn't hard to do, not when he could turn invisible and phase through walls, a final text to Sam and Tucker to say his good byes (he knew that they would break and tell his parents where he would be going) and a particularly hard hug to leave from Jazz, Danny flew off with only a back pack.

He had traveled across the US for a few months, occasionally snagging a post card from a super store to send off home, paying only when he had the excess funds (Sam's rants about mega rich corporate billionaires let him know just which stores wouldn't miss the few bucks the cards sold for)

He had met up with Dani a few times, when she was in the country, handing him Vlads credit card and telling him to keep it (though he never did) only ever using it to book a room for a few nights at a hotel to clean himself up and sleep in a real bed.

He settled in Gotham after a while, he had briefly stayed in Faucett but that place didn't have nearly enough ecto for him to live comfortably.

Gotham on the other hand? It had everything, cops that don't question why a teen is on the streets, natural ecto up the wazoo and well...a crime rate that would dissuade his parents ever looking for him there.

He had set up a more permanent shelter in an abandoned apartment building (after chasing out the low level drug dealers that were using it) and found that he kinda liked the vibes of the place under the blatant crimes being committed in broad day light.

Sure people could see you getting mugged and look the other way, but if you were still alive and there 5 minutes later, they would come back, hand you something to clean up your now bloody nose and point out the bodega that had the best sandwiches.

It was a sense of community that Danny didn't know he had missed for the many months he traveled.

His first "cook out" wasn't even supposed to be a cook out, his apartment building was mostly wood and he didn't trust himself to not burn it down, so he came outside, setting up a portable stove and setting up a pot filled with some, water to boil up a soup mix.

As he waited for it to come to temp, he saw the group of homeless rubbing their hands together, watching him with curiosity, though that quickly turned to hunger as the smell of the soup spilled out into the alley.

Instead of turning the others away Danny only shrugged, pulled out his spare paper bowls and handed them out, taking a few bites first to show that it was safe to eat.

What followed was a sort of tradition, Danny would come out a few times a day, take out his hot plate and pot and set up a soup, others started asking if they could pitch in, and well...Danny would have loved to keep providing it freely but his food was quickly dwindling.

So his soup got add in, some jerky that Crazy Tom had got tossed in, a few herbs (re:weeds) were added in by Miss O'Connor, and Danny didn't even know where Lady Dimond pulled out some spices from, but he wasn't about to question the her, he had learned never to question where the working girls hid their things.

And it sort of grew from there, who ever was around came by, some came out of their way to share a meal, but it became a meeting place of sorts "Come by the Kitchen at noon, Tom got his hands on some steak! And it ain't even smells bad!"

Sure gangs tried to pull up on the meeting place, tried to intimidate the people there or coerce them into doing something...well that was until the host, some punk teen with hair darker than black and blue eyes that were so light they were white came up, and dished out a heavy handed fist into their jaws and sent them packing.

And so the Kitchen became a safe space, if you were hungry, if you were in danger, come by the little alley way, right next to the Express Urgent Care, the Host will take care of you there, if your willing to share, to stay peaceful with the rest of the gathered people, then you were welcome to grab a bite and relax, because the Kitchen was always safe.

---

It would be a few years since the Kitchen started, since people had brought chairs and tables, since an old grill of questionable origin was left out side it, since tarps with only a few holes were hung up to keep the place dry when it rained, since rugs covered the ground and the the alley it was in was swept clean of any needles or cigarette butts.

But for one boy it had only been a few short days since his Mama died, since he had found her cold and dead in the bathroom, a belt tied around her arm and a needle still in her hand.

Jason was miserable, he had stayed with her for the a single day before he knew he would have to leave, the body of his mother would start to decompose soon, so he did what he had too, calling the police with his mother's phone that didn't have a lot of minutes left on it, telling them the address before hanging up and leaving it there so he couldn't be tracked.

He couldn't be there when the cops showed up, foster care would do shit for him, and at least his Mama would be buried, and not left to rot in their bath tub.

So a young Jason Todd, scared, alone and hungry came to the Kitchen, as his mother had told him to many times before, had told him to seek out it's Host if anything ever happened to her...and well...at the very least he would get something to eat...

[inkskinned]

i'm a little afraid to go to pride this year. many of us are, a little. sitting around our tapas and video games, the silence that hangs over the discord server. it feels different, we say.

we're privileged. the community that came before us laid the groundwork so i could be raised in a different world, and i will never forget their sacrifices and dedication. they gave us this: a pride that feels like community and celebration and joy. i remember the first few times i went to a queer event - i'd been raised so catholic. feeling safe like that, for the first time... it saved my life. i go to pride to celebrate that feeling - my people, laughing. out in the sun, the way we couldn't have been even 25 years ago. that feeling: no wonder we call it "pride."

who am i to be afraid anyway. there are parts of the world where people are doing much better work than i am. but it's just: i felt at home there, you know? and this year feels different. we are waiting on the dam to break. last year, at boston pride, there was a whole gaggle of sign-holders shouting about jesus. you walk around them and try not to let it get to you.

this year, i'm going to DC's pride with my girlfriend. google sends me concerns about if it's safe to exist in trump's america, if World Pride is a bigass target on all of us. every article uses the words "safety concerns" many, many times. three days ago i witnessed a shooting.

even straight people keep telling me - people are weird lately. sometimes we blame it on Covid and sometimes we blame it on the full moon. but i do remember a time before this, right. it's not just that people are more comfortable being rude. it's this strange, outwards violence. a comfort in being cruel.

it's a big hole to fall down anyway. it's not like they're going to do anything to make pride safe, not really. i don't want a police presence as the solution. and what if this is just fearmongering! what if this is just to get us to stop attending our own events! what if everything is actually fine, and i'm just freaked out by the stated intentions of our president!

and what if i'm just listening to things that are being said. what if i'm weighing the shape and size of this america accurately.

my mother calls me. she's been getting the articles too. i assure her i'll be careful, but i put the phone down and stare at it. i'm going to go to pride. other people made it safe for me, it is my duty and my honor to show up for my community. the only thing we've ever had was each other. it was always an act of bravery. being ourselves is brave.

but i am afraid. i lay out my outfit and i kiss my girlfriend. i cut my nails and clean up my undercut. i hold her hand and hang the sunset flag. the sound of this america feels different. like a volcano trembling. i will love her and i will love being queer and i will sing over the noise of it.

but ... still. in the back of my mind. that feeling, like something terrible has been shifted. like somewhere in the night - they remembered we're different.

[cthulhum]

i lied theres no sex. were gonna sit down and watch supernatural while we analyze the way almost every character is queer coded especially dean

[roach-works]

im working on a silly thought right now but: it deeply sucks that advertising is annoying, irresistible, and omnipresent, and we all just have to cope with that constant ongoing sandpaper irritation. meanwhile there's less and less grace for humans that are annoying, which is something that every human is at some point, and some of us are really annoying for most of our lives.

like. everyone has to be beautiful and graceful. everyone has to be sensitive and kind. or else they have to be apologetically disabled: autistic, bipolar, deaf. they have to be so so sorry for inconveniencing you, cutting you off, weirding you out, holding you up, annoying you. they have to take responsibility, they have to listen and learn, they have to make it up to you.

i don't think i want to live in a world where advertisers get to crawl into my eyeballs and earholes as often as they possibly can, but if im abrasive and clueless to someone i better be a card carrying member of the Broken Brain Club or prepared to grovel.

[bunnieswithknives]

As much as I love angst I think it would be funny if he just didnt give af

[bacchuschucklefuck]

january month of yuugi