#someone has to take a stand

[our-lord-little-toad]

Ah. I see. A scholar has arrived. A man of science. A learned individual, stepping into my humble swamp to inform me, a mere toad, that my war is unjust. That I have conflated the matters of soul and spirit, of fear and loathing, of right and wrong. That I have failed in my sacred duty of categorization.

You bring me phylogeny. You bring me taxonomy. You bring me reason. But tell me this, doctor—when I awake in the dead of night, throat dry, heart pounding, eyes burning from the image of a slick, grinning amphibian staring at me from the abyss… will your science protect me then?

I do not wage this war lightly. I do not make these claims with reckless abandon. No, sir. I have seen things. I have known things. I have looked into the wretched, lawless soul of the Anuran menace and found it wanting.

And yet, despite all this, you ask me to open my arms and welcome these creatures into my heart? You ask me to reconsider, to reevaluate my position? To, what, allow the microhylids safe passage? To grant the bufonids a conditional truce?

No. I will not. My mind is made. My war is just. My path is clear.

But I will give you this, doctor—I respect the courage it takes to stand before me and present your case. I admire your willingness to speak truth, even if that truth is fundamentally incorrect. I will take your words into consideration. I will ponder them deeply. And then…

I will continue to loathe frogs with my whole, undivided soul.

Good day, sir.

Ah. I see. A scholar has arrived. A man of science. A learned individual, stepping into my humble swamp to inform me, a mere toad, that my war is unjust. That I have conflated the matters of soul and spirit, of fear and loathing, of right and wrong. That I have failed in my sacred duty of categorization.

You bring me phylogeny. You bring me taxonomy. You bring me reason. But tell me this, doctor—when I awake in the dead of night, throat dry, heart pounding, eyes burning from the image of a slick, grinning amphibian staring at me from the abyss… will your science protect me then?

I do not wage this war lightly. I do not make these claims with reckless abandon. No, sir. I have seen things. I have known things. I have looked into the wretched, lawless soul of the Anuran menace and found it wanting.

And yet, despite all this, you ask me to open my arms and welcome these creatures into my heart? You ask me to reconsider, to reevaluate my position? To, what, allow the microhylids safe passage? To grant the bufonids a conditional truce?

No. I will not. My mind is made. My war is just. My path is clear.

But I will give you this, doctor—I respect the courage it takes to stand before me and present your case. I admire your willingness to speak truth, even if that truth is fundamentally incorrect. I will take your words into consideration. I will ponder them deeply. And then…

I will continue to loathe frogs with my whole, undivided soul.

Good day, sir.

I CANNOT BELIEVE I HAVE TO SAY THIS AGAIN.

TOADS. ARE. NOT. FROGS.

If you walk up to me, look me in my warty little eyes, and say, “Aren’t toads just frogs?”—I WILL SCREAM. I will scream so loud the swamp will tremble. The audacity. The ignorance. The absolute frog-washed brainrot it must take to utter such blasphemy.

Let me make this crystal clear for the people in the back (and for the frogs who pretend they don’t hear me):

Do frogs have warts? No.

Do frogs survive in the harsh, dry lands while their slimy cousins shrivel up in the sun? No.

Do frogs understand struggle? The weight of existence? The burden of being TOUGH? Absolutely not.

Frogs are soft. Frogs are pampered. Frogs think they’re the main characters when they’re barely side notes in the great story of the swamp.

TOADS, however? We endure. We persevere. We do not hop for attention; we WALK with PURPOSE. We are the backbone of the amphibian world, and yet we are constantly disrespected by people who lump us in with those jumping, waterlogged, algae-brained buffoons.

I am TIRED. I am ENRAGED. I will NOT be silenced.

Toads > Frogs. Forever. Do not test me on this.

# # #toadvsthefrogagenda # #toadlife #dontcompareme #geteducated #truthhurts #rant #angry #notahoppingslimeball #realtalk

[egophiliac]

I don’t think we’ve ever seen you draw knight of dawn before 🤔 what are your thoughts about him? Or take?

I've drawn him a couple of times, just really little/in the background. but I should draw him more, I love this guy a lot! I have many, many thoughts about him and the way he parallels Silver...and also I think it is extremely funny that his ghost is stuck in a ring. especially considering where that ring has been for the last 16-ish years.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

real talk having the 2nd worst new years eve yet 🤢🤢🤢 (throat infection, twisted neck, banged-about-foot, ego AND the rest o' me all bruised like misjuggled peaches 🍑🍑🍑)

im bent outa shape and suspectin the universe owes me 8 buck if anyone wannsa chip in

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

At your side [End of Season 2]

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[demaparbat-hp]

How does that first encounter go down between them in your Spitfire AU? I imagine some real conflicting emotions on all sides!

I would love to hear you ramble!! ❤️

*cracks knuckles* Alright, let's do this.

As far as the world is concerned, Lu Ten II doesn't exist and the Royal Bloodline ends with Princess Azula. The little kid that follows Prince Zuko everywhere? That's Ten Ten, an orphaned stowaway his Crew found and adopted for some weird reason no-one ever questions—the kid is just that lovable.

(It helps, honestly, that Lu Ten II is a carbon-copy of poor, forgotten Ursa. No one would ever think to connect him with Fire Lord Ozai, long may he reign.)

Little Ten Ten loves to run off when the Crew is on shore leave. He gets into trouble sometimes, but only because of his chronic inability to look away from people who need help (it makes Zuzu both so proud and so shouty-because-he's-worried. It's fun until it isn't).

By now the Crew knows not to panic when the kid goes missing for a couple of hours in a harbor town—which is why no one noticed Ten Ten's disappearance until it was too late.

"Could someone please explain to me," what starts as a mutter becomes a shout as anxiety takes over Sokka, "why on earth did we go into town to buy necessary, highly specific supplies, and returned—not only with a stolen waterbending scroll—stolen! From pirates, Katara!—but with a Fire Nation-looking KID?!"

While Ten Ten is having the time of his life goofing with Aang, out-sassing why-is-this-happening-to-me Sokka, and melting Katara's heart—Zuko is losing his mind, sanity, and temper because how on Agni's name do you lose a Prince of your nation?

But, sir, he's like three-feet-tall—

HOW, JEE?!

Needless to say, the pirates kidnap the pretty waterbending thief and her kid with the sharp tongue and fancy-looking clothes. Which turns out to be a Bad Idea™ because, well, a skinny guy from the watertribes and his way-too-young-to-be-bald companion? They can absolutely deal with them.

A Crew's worth of murderous Fire Nation soldiers lead by the unforgiving, terrifying, bloodthirsty Prince?

They are not ready for that.

[kettlefire]

A Panic in Time (DP x DC)

This is all thanks to the awesome @tkiesai for basically being the foundation of this idea! This is probably going to be long, and probably won't delve that deep into my ideas about this idea. Largely so it's not insanely long. But here I go!

°•°•°•°

Bruce's head felt like it had been shoved through a straw and spit out on the other side. The throbbing was annoying, but it wasn't anything the man couldn't handle.

His mind was muddled, memories of what happened prior to him awaking was blurry and unsure. Bruce knew it wasn't something good.

He vaguely remembered a league meeting, a threat, something looming. It wasn't world ending, or at least that's what Bruce remembered. It should have been something they could handle.

But now, here was Bruce. Waking up in the grass of some random park. He was dressed in casual attire, something he'd wear in public as Bruce. Although last he remembered he was in the Batsuit.

The sun felt too bright in the sky. The sound of families filled the air and children's laughter. No one seemed to blink twice at Bruce as he pulled himself together.

It took a moment to steel himself, to gain composer again. It took a few sweet lines, and a charming smile for a nice mother to slide him a few painkillers. The lies rolling off his tongue like second nature.

To his luck there was a newspaper at the top of the trashcan. He was in some town called Amity Park, and the year... the year was the problem.

It was 1996. Whatever had happened had sent Bruce back in time. There was a few suspects Bruce can think were the cause of this. But something in his gut kept drawing his train of thought to the Flash.

It seemed like each time the League had any time related problems, Barry was in the center of it. Which also leaves Bruce with the question if he was the only one sent back in time.

God, he could only imagine the nightmare if the others were sent back in time. Yes, they can be professional. They understand the risk of changing things in the past.

But Bruce also understands that his team can be less than... intelligent at times.

Despite that, Bruce needed to find a way to get back to Gotham. He might not know for sure where everyone was right now, but he knew Alfred was the safest bet.

A plan laid out in Bruce's mind, a list of people he knew wouldn't be a risk to approach. He just needed to find a way to get to them. He had barely made it to the gates of the park before a shrill cry pierced the air.

There was just one loud outcry, before it quieted down. Bruce glance around the space, spotting a young boy curled on the ground. Tears streamed down the boy's chubby cheeks.

And no one even moved to the boy's aid. Not a single mother spared more than one glance in the kid's directions. No parents came rushing over to the boy's side.

Bruce almost walked away, he really did. This wasn't his time, anything he does can cause immense damage to the timeline. But when Bruce caught sight of blood bubbling from a scrape on the boy's knee, Bruce couldn't ignore him.

Maybe it's just the father in him, but Bruce barely even notices when he's crossing the small distance. His mind zeroing in on a hurt child that needed help. Kneeling before the small boy with a gentle smile, and pulling his handkerchief free from his pocket.

"You're alright there, buddy. It looks like you took a bit of a tumble there." Bruce slipped into the same tone he used to use when his kids were young. Gentle and understanding, as he pressed the handkerchief to the small scrape.

The boy sniffled, tears slipping from his eyes. Bruce was more focused on the way the kid was looking at him. Like he couldn't fathom someone coming to his aid.

That look had Bruce's heart breaking slightly. He's seen a similar look before. The few times he's come to the aid of a hurt child that wasn't used to getting help.

Something no child should ever feel or experience.

"Where's your parents, kiddo?" Bruce asked after a moment of silence from the boy. He had waited until the kid's breathing settled down when the boy's chest stopped pumping so quickly.

Except his question only seemed to bring a new wave of tears to the boy's eyes. The small child just seemed to curl into himself further, ducking his gaze away from Bruce.

And as much as Bruce didn't want it to be true, it was clear the kid didn't have the support he needed. It might not as be as far as some of Bruce's kids have had in the past.

But it was clearly not good.

"That's okay, it's alright. What's your name?" Bruce tried again. The boy's silence was leaving an uncomfortable pit in Bruce's stomach.

"D-Danny..." The boy spoke out his name between sniffles, and Bruce felt a wave of relief hearing the boy speak.

In hindsight, Bruce can see how strange the scene might look. A slightly disheveled man comforting a lone young boy in a park. It wasn't exactly perfect.

But with the lack of reactions from the parents around, Bruce had a feeling the town had an idea who this boy was. The whole situation just didn't feel that right for him.

It took a few more comments before Bruce managed to get the boy to crack a smile. A laugh had felt like breaking a massive wall.

Before long, Bruce had Danny actually like any other boy he's known. Carefree and happy, just like a child should be.

"You didn't tell me your name, mister." Danny had suddenly cut down the relaxed moment they were in. A pout laced the boy's lips as he looked up at Bruce, almost accusatory.

"I'm Bruce. Bruce Wayne." Bruce responded without missing a beat. He knew this might cause problems in the future. He wasn't supposed to be here.

But when his gut is telling him something, he can't just ignore it. He checked his pockets, finding no business cards anywhere. So, Bruce fell back in plan B.

"No matter how long it's been from now, you can come to me for help. Just look for Bruce Wayne in Gotham City, and when you find me... just say Fairbanks sent you."

Bruce wasn't sure if he'll ever see Danny again when he goes back to his own time. Wasn't even sure if this was the same universe as his own. But he couldn't walk away without at least offering the boy help in some way.

When Danny's eyes filled up with tears again, Bruce thought he said something wrong at first. That was until the boy was suddenly clinging to his shoulders in a tight embrace, muttering 'thank you' over and over again.

Bruce felt himself almost close to tears just from that alone. His heart was aching for the small boy. Even if Bruce couldn't help Danny anymore than this, he was hoping the boy would have a better life.

One where he wasn't clinging to a stranger for comfort that family should be providing him.

THWAMP

It didn't hurt, but it did cut their hug short as Bruce suddenly pulled away. Turning his head to see a young girl wielding a wiffle bat, and another young boy standing behind her.

Her purple eyes glared at Bruce like he had done the worst thing in the world. Her grip on the bat was threatening and ready to swing again. Her knuckles white from the tight grip alone.

Maybe leaving this time era might not be as easy as Bruce thought as the young girl probbed him with angry and scolding questions. Not that Bruce could blame her.

He just hoped this hiccup didn't get back to the league. They'd have a field day hearing about how Batman got scolded by a child with a wiffle bat.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Danny wasn't sure if this was the best idea. It's been years since he met Bruce Wayne. So many years. Danny had just been a kid, not even ten, when Bruce had introduced himself.

When he had an adult, actually check in on him. Yet, it was a memory Danny couldn't forget. Maybe it was just the kindness that Bruce radiated.

Or maybe it was when Sam came to his "rescue" near the end. Regardless, it was cemented in his mind. A core memory that Danny cared with him through the years.

Now, here he was, roughly seven years later. Standing in front of a manor that put even Sam's place to shame.

It took a lot of courage for Danny to knock. Barely a second later, an old man answered the door, an accent Danny was certain Bruce hadn't had.

A stuttered explaination of being here to see Bruce Wayne, that the man knew him, barely left Danny's mouth before the old man ushered him inside.

The man, Alfred, told Danny to wait by the door before vanishing further into the manor. It took a lot for Danny to not just vanish.

Being half ghost nowadays had its quirks, Danny could just vanish, and no one but Alfred would know. But he couldn't.

It had taken a lot for Danny to make the journey to Gotham City. He hadn't even thought to look up a current picture of Bruce either. Which was probably a big mistake on his end.

Danny didn't even know if Bruce was offering this kind of help. But Danny didn't have many allies to turn to. He needed help.

Not just for himself but for his family. For Amity Park. He couldn't be afforded the ability to run away. Not now.

Danny felt all the air leave his lungs when Bruce entered the area. The man didn't look a day older than what Danny remembered. Bruce looked a bit more put together, not like he had just jumped out of a moving car, but it was Bruce.

"Uhm... I don't know if you remember me. But my name's Danny... we met when I was a kid." Danny started trying to explain himself before Bruce could speak. He recognized that confused look anywhere, and Danny didn't have the guts to go through with this if Bruce asked any questions.

"You told me if I ever needed help, to come find you. Bruce Wayne in Gotham City... you, uh, told me to tell you Fairbanks sent me?"

That came out more like a question than Danny would have liked. But it did ease his nerves a bit as he watched Bruce's slightly confused expression turn to alarm and surprise.

Danny wasn't sure what this would do. If Bruce could truly help him. But he was out of options. Just seeing Bruce recognize something he said was enough to calm the teen's anxiety slightly.

"I'm sorry, Danny... I don't remember you. But I believe you and I want to help you. Come inside, have a seat, and tell me what's going on."

That response was enough to have Danny's eyes fill with tears. His chest filling with a sense of hope he hadn't felt in weeks now.

Maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

[hildegardladyofbones]

One of the best things about Disco Elysium by far is that it does not fear ugly women. The world is full of ugly men, but ugly women are so hard to come by.

[mobius-m-mobius]

#a man who DESERVES A SLICE OF PIE

[whataboutthreateninganass]

this promotional image of Bradley literally haunts my dreams:

PLEASEEEE 😭😭

why is he standing like that !!

[hazel2468]

I keep seeing people bitching about "uwu when I say 'from the river to the sea' people say I'm calling for geeenocide! They say I'm antisemitic!" and like.

Maybe. instead of clinging to a phrase that a bunch of white leftists have co-opted because they think it sounds nice. And digging your little immature heels in. You should LISTEN when people tell you that yes. The phrase's FUCKING ORIGIN was a call for the eradication of Jews from the area known as Israel and Palestine. That NO, you cannot divorce it from those roots. YES, it IS still used to mean that TO THIS DAMN DAY.

And look. Maybe you DON'T think that Israelis should all be killed and/or exiled from Israel and Palestine. Maybe you DON'T think that the genocide of an entire people is the solution. Maybe you DON'T hate Jews and want all of us dead. And if that's the case? Great!

But how the FUCK are we supposed to tell the difference when you are using the EXACT same phrase as countless people who DO want those things. People who DO hate Jews, who ARE supportive of organizations that want to commit violence, people who SUPPORT what happened on October 7th?

When people tell you "hey, this phrase means something else, it has ALWAYS come from those roots, and using it is NOT OKAY because it is STILL used as a rallying cry for violence against Israelis and Jews worldwide", the way to react? Is NOT to fucking double down and use it.

Because that? DOES make you an antisemite. And if I see you using that phrase? Then I MUST assume that at best, you do not know what it means and have SOMEHOW avoided the countless Jews and non-Jews I have seen talking about it, or at WORST you actively hate me and want me and every single one of my people dead.

And frankly? You are not worth that risk to interact with.

Stop saying it. There are SO many ways to support Palestine, the Palestinian people, and their fight for rights, that do not involve spouting genocidal, antisemitic rhetoric. it is NOT HARD.

But apparently, some of y'all are insistent on being racist.

[starry-bi-sky]

*grips Shen Qingqiu by the shoulders*

aren't you tired of being nice? Don't you want to crack under the pressure of the system and the robbed autonomy of being forced into a role you had no choice in but have to play anyways? don't you want to buckle under the realization that, to you, no matter what you do your life is going to end in a horrific death? Whether that be under Luo Binghe's hands or the System's?

Don't you want to realize that no matter all the good you have done and the lives you have changed and saved, you're still standing at the ledge of a cliff with a sword to your disciple's chest?

Shouldn't it be you at the edge instead? Balancing on the crumbling dirt's end of death on either side, and you can either walk into it or be forced?

don't you want to go apeshit?

[dollypopup]

hm. idk, maybe the reason Luke Newton isn't announcing new projects or posting any Bridgerton content is because some of you demons treated him like hot trash instead of a creative that you wanted more work from and he decided fuck it, this isn't worth the stress. you know, like a lot of creatives who get mistreated do?

like this is a man who went from couch surfing in a friend's house and bartending to make ends meet, deciding that the Bridgerton audition was the last one he'd do before he quit, to suddenly being recognized on the street because that last audition propelled him to star in a global show where fans who have zero media comprehension blamed him for his character's actions and literally stalked him at any hotel he happens to stay at. he went from being a dude doing musical theatre and shopping at thrift stores and recording random songs with friends and posting silly memes on Twitter to being harassed on his only social media page and his friends insulted and his partners bullied by his supposed 'fans' and anything he posts being so microanalyzed that he can't do a damn thing without someone coming out the woodwork screaming about how he's the WORST and won't he think of the FANS!?

like damn he can't have a girlfriend without being harassed, he can't travel without being harassed, he can't like or not like social media posts without being harassed, he can't post a fucking MEME without being harassed, he can't take a vacation or cut his hair or hold someone's hand or just live his life without being blamed for some bullshit or another. but yeah, okay, 'when will Luke Newton come back?' as if it isn't your fault he's AWOL now

[punchouthottakes]

FLAMING HOT TAKE INCOMING, DISCLAIMER FIRST: punch out is a game with no lore and little to no characterization so it’s natural that different people have different takes on a character and I 10000% respect that and I love seeing how people interpret stuff differently from me!!!!! this is not a dig or a diss this is just personal observation!!!!!!!!!!

i don’t get why the overall fandom consensus is that don flamenco is head over heels in love with the blonde lady [that the fandom calls Carmen (this I do understand why)] in his cinematic trailer. it’s always been apparent to me that this guy is supposed to be like a casanova/serial womanizer/harem enthusiast douchebag kinda guy.

1. country of origin and profession: every enemy character in this game is supposed to be an exaggerated cultural stereotype/caricature, so it’s natural to assume that most of their character traits are not meant to subvert audience expectations, and flamenco is no exception! Spaniards are stereotyped as carelessly romantic, and toreadors seem to be associated with more socially conservative or dare I say, sexist/woman objectifying behavior. it would be logical to presume that flamenco also embodies these traits

2. contender intro slideshow: most people (and I as well) like to use the final slide of his contender intro as evidence of his romantic status. however, I fail to see how it shows him as faithful; on the contrary, the fact that the girls around “Carmen” are a. (for one of them) also wearing roses - the same color as the one he’s giving her, in fact - and b. clearly looking shocked and disgusted seems to show me that those girls were also the object of flamenco’s short-lived affection and that the blonde girl is just his next “target” so to speak.

now how to justify his in-battle voice lines referring to his affection for carmen? well look no further than Carmen, the opera by Bizet, where the titular Carmen ends up being with a toreador (like don flamenco). it could be possible that he uses “Carmen” as a pet name for all of his flings rather than the actual name of his one true love

please feel free to prove me wrong bc I see nobody else with this interpretation and I wanna know why everyone agrees that he’s a faithful boyfriend/malewife lmao

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

When in doubt, Soup it out.

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[evilbeing]

I really wanted to read what the boi wrote about Angrboda in his secret diary for shipping purpose

Then I kept laughing for 15 minutes because he wrote the same thing about Skjöldr

[bitchfitch]

I had a shrink appointment today and while I could not see it I knew my doc was going through the five stages of grief while I explained my fool proof strategy for doing my t shots despite a crippling fear of needles: By abusing my vastly more crippling fear of being an inconvenience.

My mother and I play phasmophobia together every week. she usually has a pretty limited time to do this bc she's like. a doctor and a college professor whos always busy. So I asked her to just. hold me to doing them. We don't start playing until the shot is done. so my needle fear doesn't matter because now it's Wasting™ her time and I have to do it quick. Using one neurosis to defeat another.

It's a horrible coping mechanism because it's feeding the inconvenience fear, but it is definitionally a coping mechanism.