#but know that they’re there

[clown-eating-pig]

Date night for Chester and Norris

(+shoutout to @moofter for drawing the design on the mug 😌)

[junglejim4322]

Something that I have noticed is I know almost nobody my age that goes to a food pantry. I know people who regularly run out of money for food and in general have to eat an unsuitable diet because that’s what they can afford and they still don’t go to a food bank, im not sure if it’s because they’re embarrassed or maybe if you didn’t grow up going you don’t know much about it but if you’re financially struggling I really recommend it. And look into other options for food assistance too like community fridges and gardens and other programs that can assist you, where I live Salvation Army pays for an allotted amount of grocery delivery for low income people every month, in the summer farmers take excess produce to the library to be taken by anyone who needs it, etc. There are a LOT of resources for free food that you can look into especially if you are literally not eating because of your financial situation

[tariah23]

White people are miserable, racist losers period. They’ve even been getting mad at Japanese people for correcting them about Yasuke as well.

[mumblesplash]

reaction image

[bruciemilf]

Anyway, thinking about how Bruce’s mom tendencies bleed over around the League.

He pulls out a Barbie pink scrunchie from his endless utility belt.

Oliver is very sure he’s seen it in Spoiler’s blonde mane before. He wordlessly secures Diana’s hair in a ponytail before she jumps into battle.

Barry skins his knee while running, which, considering, is pretty severe. Definitely not the kind of wound you can treat with Gray Ghost bandages.

“I’m NEVER taking this off.”

“Okay, gross?”

“Shut up, Hal, you don’t even wash your suit, you just make a new one every time!”

“I’m allergic to laundry detergent, everybody knows that, BARRY.”

Bruce does not tolerate their fighting for more than 15 minutes at a time. “I will count to 3.”

Hal is quite literally flabbergasted when, after a particularly rough mission, Batman walks over to him and gently places a plate of fruits before him.

“Hal,” in that rain soft voice. “Fruit.”

“…Thanks?”

He just walks off. Like it’s nothing.

“…Did he just do something nice for me? Everybody saw that, right? You’re all witnesses. “

Everyone’s equal parts shocked and equal parts losing their shit. Clark’s eyes are just slightly red.

“I need to take a nap.”

[tired-all-the-time22]

Failed phantom smooch ft. Letting the besties know

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[detentiontrack]

When Mabel comes out to Stan, she’s really scared that he’s going to reject her and have an issue with it, so she’s emotional and asks him if he still loves and supports her and he’s just like “??? Kid I’ve been telling you all summer I’m one of the LBTGs” and then it’s her turn to be like “wait what??” because she thinks he had never mentioned a sexuality before, and it turns out Stan had been constantly telling the kids that he’s “ambidextrous” because he thought it meant the same thing as bisexual.

[noodles-and-tea]

It’s always either or

[cabbagegunk]

I personally think that all whale sharks should be put on Mickey’s Dick Smasher.

WHAT!!!! they are such gentile creatures why would you say thst…

[chloesimaginationthings]

I can’t wait to see mangle in the FNAF 2 movie,,

[nalonzooo]

you ever like someone so much

[perplexingly]

Spirit companions

[science-bastard]

y’know what? FUCK you. i’m putting your ass in the control group. *injects you with boring saline instead of the fun and exciting glowing green goo i originally had planned*

[blueskittlesart]

i hope everyone in nintendo’s management department dies and goes to hell no matter what and i’m not kidding

[800db-cloud]

i’m literally shaking buy them brown contacts pls