Guys. Please

parents & pedigree [x] [x]

Vague spoilers for one piece ep 1087

We’ve seen Koby twice in the last several hundred episodes. First at Reverie when he’s asked whether he likes Luffy and he stutters like an idiot. Second when he’s the only person completely unaffected by Boa Hancock’s powers.

I know what you are Koby 🤨

Don’t mind me I’m just having my

✨monthly panic attack over bills✨

Maybe the real reason Batman is known in the JL for giving single syllable replies or even just grunts is that he trained all his small talk skills for his Brucie persona and now he doesn’t know how to small talk without flirting and he will absolutely not be doing that in front of Diana, Hal, Oliver, Dinah, J’onn, Billy, or Clark, all for very different reasons.

If you see a younger sibling dying in one piece rest assured there’s an older sibling running to sacrifice themselves somewhere. You might have to wait like 10 episodes but trust the younger sibling never dies first.

Hehehe 😊😘

Saw this post and did a quick doodle so I remember to draw it later, but then decided this is peak actually. Lmk if anyone wants me to properly draw it

THIS!! This theme persists throughout Tim's story. Where Bruce is unable to step away because of his trauma, guilt and lack of life outside Batman, Tim is unable to leave due to a sense of selflessness. In almost every step of the way he has a truly full civilian life waiting for him but he cannot leave Bruce and his family to drown in their grief alone. Because of what that means for them but also what it means for the city. He knows his role and has resigned to the fact that it is necessary regardless of his own needs and wants.

This is also what irks me about the "Rim is destined/likely to be a killer" characterization. While it is a really interesting concept, ignoring this incredibly selfless aspect of his motivation and replacing it with Batman's motivation is frankly wasted potential

the misinterpretation of a lonely place of dying by later retellings drives me nuts because ‘tim finds out who batman is’ is nearly not as much of a big deal as ‘tim doesnt want to be robin’ in the actual origin and it pretty much sums up whats wrong with modern tim drake. ALPOD is a tragic story of a twelve year old boy who had everything and willingly gave it up for a greater good. he is not like dick and jason who became robin to escape tragedy nor bruce who had everything and then lost it. robin was nothing but a curse he accepted to bear and he did so because of his selflessness. that selflessness is his driving rod, his smarts and physical talent are only the tools he uses to achieve his goals. he is not ‘the smart one’, he is a sacrificial lamb for a cause he became an unwilling spectator of. a twelve year old boy thought ‘people need saving, its that simple’ and put on the clothes a dying kid not much older than him wore because of nothing more than his selflessness and everyone he loved paid the price for it. he paid an even greater price for it.

Thoughts on Disney Pixar's Soul

Anyone like me who missed the movie soul cause it went straight to streaming during the pandemic, please take a moment to watch it because it's a master piece.

The art style is a beautiful mix of hyper realistic rendering and cartoon caricature and the intentionality of when it leans more into either style says a story of its own. The first things I noticed were the musical instruments rendered in way more detail than necessary, the pictures in his class of real people and not caricatures.

Then it was the perspective shots of 22 experiencing life, where the art was again, all hyper realism. The overwhelming nature of nyc to the beautiful moment of them feeling the spark of life. And in those moments despite the realism, it was not new york I saw. I blinked and I was transported to all the moments in my own life that paralleled that moment and I remembered the cold breeze on my skin, the smell of rain on cement, the context of my memories that made me feel that spark of life.

And when Joe laid out the trinkets they had gathered as proof of living that day and started playing the piano, as he went through his own memories, his proof of living his whole life, I sobbed. Once again, with every blink I saw my own life and every memory and emotion proof that I have lived. The score he played truly felt like it represented the feeling of being alive. Being alive through all the pain and joy and excitement and despair, a feeling so human.

What's insane about this is that I'm not from NYC, I don't take the subway to work, I have nothing to do with music or jazz. None of those moments or memories are directly relatable to my life. And yet I feel it represented my life.

The movie itself was a piece of art of course but watching it, the emotions it invoked in me felt like a separate multimodal artistic experience. One so deeply personal, I cannot express it to you in words.

Please go watch it for yourselves. If you watched it when you were younger and are now a full adult, please watch it again.

(I could go on about how perfect jazz is as a metaphor for life but I'm not the most qualified for that. If anyone is, please do talk about it)

Bruce doesn’t get enough credit for not caring about what others think AND being quick on his feet in every situation.

Imagine a gala where Lex Luthor has somehow tracked down who he thinks is Superman’s secret identity to one of the attendees, who he’s going to unearth by playing some high level frequency that only Kryptonians can hear (and hurts to be near).

Bruce clocks the device somehow during the initial schmoozing, turns on his (drunken) heel to (not so drunkenly) look for Clark, and drags Clark out by the lapels into the service hallway just in time to pin said Kryptonian to a wall and growl sorry under his breath.

Lex activates the device and the noise immobilizes Clark in pain. He’s crying real tears, eyes clenched shut, hands coming up to try and block out the frequency.

Bruce pushes his hands down, presses him back into the wall and kisses him. Hard. Almost hard enough to distract him. Salacious enough that anyone walking by would immediately avert their eyes.

Bruce’s hands cup Clark’s face, hiding the tears. He pins Clark’s hands between their chests so he can’t reach for his ears. To anyone who looks closely, Clark’s screwed up expression is from being kissed breathless by no other than Brucie Wayne himself.

Lex Luthor slips by, eyes sharp and looking for Superman. He passes them with a curled up lip and a distracted nod. The noise shuts off after a few minutes, unable to be sustained for long periods of time.

Bruce pulls back. Clark collapses forward into him, foreheads knocking together as the pain in his head begins to dull and the tears on his face start to dry. Weak and shivery, leaning on Bruce more than he ever has before.

“Okay?” Bruce asks quietly, instead of saying you’re welcome or that was closer than I’d like or even I’m sorry again.

Clark stares back at him, keenly aware of just how close that had been. And just how red Bruce’s lips are, suddenly.