[ipanema]

               - ——𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃. & yes,  he looks fabulous

private  &  highly selective Roberto da Costa ,  est. 2018. by mandinha

[ipanema]

               - ——𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃. & yes,  he looks fabulous

private  &  highly selective Roberto da Costa ,  est. 2018. by mandinha

[newgodss-deactivated20230701]

from the co-creator of new mutants fb page

[journalistpeterparker-deactivat]

Image ID: Facebook post from Bob McLeod. Text: “ I was very excited when I heard they were making a New Mutants movie. I thought making it into a horror movie was perhaps an interesting idea, but not at all how the characters should be introduced to the public at large. But, hey, my characters in a movie! I never would have thought that would actually happen. But then, I was disappointed when they didn't give Dani braids, although I like Blu Hunt. I was disappointed when Rahne wasn't a redhead with spiky hair, although I adore Maisie Williams. I was disappointed that Sam isn't tall and gawky, although I do like Charlie Heaton. But mainly I was very disappointed that Roberto isn't short and dark-skinned. Yet another example of Hollywood white-washing. There's just no excuse. So basically, #JoshBoone erased everything I contributed to the way the characters look. And now, the movie has come out at last, and apparently they've credited someone named Bob Macleod as co-creator. They couldn't even be bothered to check the spelling of my name sometime in the last three years. And that can't be fixed. That will be on the movie forever. I think I'm done with this movie. “ End ID

[ipanemas]

hooooly shit wAIT @ipanema was available as an url do i make the switch

[ipanemas]

it gets worse i’m...

[ipanemas]

“i didn’t care about the racism i’ve heard about in brazil, about light-skin vs dark-skin”  what the fuck is this even supposed to mean

[ipanemas]

anyways the prodigal son returns  &  it’s entirely outta spite ✨

[ipanemas]

rising from the dead specifically to say Fuck This

[ipanemas]

anyways 2day is a good day 2 remember beto is afro - brazilian !

[madeinbr-deactivated20260221]

[ipanemas]

i always go on about how much influence emmanuel has had over beto, how close they were  &  all that  &  while i have touched on the subject of his mom...  i don’t think i’ve expressed how important she is to beto.  all things given,  he’s learned to cope with their past to some degree, never past that.  he’s grown now,  he’s gone his own direction.  he knows she loves him.  but nothing can change the fact that at many points he felt like he fell second to her job.  he hasn’t ever taken back what he said to her about her seeming to love her job more than she loved him  &  he doesn’t intend to,  even if he knows she does love him more,  because in all honesty ?  there are still moments where he falls into that doubt,  where he’s just uncertain.  he isn’t okay with that,  but he’s okay with not being okay.

the biggest thing of all though,  is she makes him feel sad.  she’s the only family he technically has left.  he’s never gotten over wishing they’d been able to spend more time together,  spending all that time he could w/ her before she left again,  &  in a way that still sticks.  he calls her often,  visits when he can.  sometimes he can but he doesn’t  &  that’s when he’s left reflecting on it,  on how he can’t walk away from a phone call with her without a heavy sigh after hanging up,  without having a few seconds where his grandeur is just...  absent.  he’s brought back to being this kid who at the hardest moment in his life just wanted his parents,  who had that point had already disappointed him so many times.

but he still calls.  sometimes there’s a bit of hesitancy before he dials her,  but he almost always go through,  aware of how terrible it’ll feel.  he still visits,  &  he enjoys visiting her.  they’ll laugh  &  talk,  they’ve always been close in the moments they’ve spent together but it’s like a night of partying with strangers where you have fun but walk away from it feeling numb / void.

it isn’t healthy,  by any means,  much less when considering those are one of the few things he really keeps quiet about.

[ipanemas]

ALL SIN IS SEEN EQUAL;    &    God doesn’t cater to thieves,    no matter how holy or how many times he’s humbly stood between the benches in front of an altar or how many confessions he’s attended to    [  He might have even grown tired of it,    the bright eyed boy walking in,    BURNING    —    (  he always is  ),    to a whitewashed chapel,    effulgent between the fingers of morning light arriving from the stained glass windows  ]    &    the protection the rosary compressed between something only akin to nylon at TOUCH    &    his chest extends only   so far  in its reaches.    that’s to say his luck,    divinely given or coincidence,    has boiled against the palms of his hands    &    left their skin a vibrant red.

at the sight of her,    his eyes are all sclera;    wide    &    impish,    a vowel situated between his lips holding them agape.    for a moment,    there’s only the sound of a mechanical hum vibrating beneath their feet,    like low - octave   tinsel   merging with static as sounds several hallways down slip beneath the door   &   dominate it.      ❛     any chance i can get away with saying i was lost ?     ❜

                  @spelltricks     ⦑☀⦒  !

[ipanemas]

SEE,    FIEND,    HOW   THE   SUN   FOLLOWS   HIM    &    its burning eyes watch the valleys from the cliffs    &    plateaus unblinking.  its dogs guard each horizon at the ends of the sun - bleached purlieus    &   Christ himself observes off the golden cross hung at his neck demanding some   ancient atonement while he accounts for something unseen,  unborn.     ❛   could’ve sworn i’d seen your face coming outta BLACKWATER.    but   that   sure   as   hell   ain’t   the   only   place   i’d   seen   it.   ❜

 ☀  @martyrdawn

[ipanemas]

❛    they   cost   me   about   a   hundred   dollars.    ❜      the food before him is untouched.    they’re in a bar infested with the undercurrents of day drinkers below the personages who’d come for lunch as displacement slowly wrought      &    hysteria would soon rise.    he   speaks   calmly   for   such   a   thing,    openly,    &    behind him is a poker table filled with men who can hear him    &    whose voices have not as discreetly lowered as they’d think.      ❛    &  they’ll cost the bank a few hundred more if my suspicion follows.    not that i care much for the bank,    but   you   don’t   send   typically   send   many   men   to   rob   a   stagecoach.    ❜

 ☀  @starszakrew

[ipanemas]

☀️/    KARMA

         ❝  I  COME  BEARING  GIFTS.   ❞            𝙵𝙾𝙻𝙳𝙴𝙳  𝙿𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚂  𝙾𝙵  𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽  𝚆𝙷𝙸𝚃𝙴  𝙿𝙰𝙿𝙴𝚁    ;   crumpled  &  worn  through  at  the  crease.    spread  out  across  the  table  they’re  a  mass  of  color ,  ink  weaving  tiny  webs  beyond  each  point  as  water-color  and  marker  bleed  together.  atop  it  all ,  an  indiscreet  note  penned  in  the  wobbly  cursive  of  a  seven  year  old   ;    FOR   BOBBY ,   LOVE   NGA.            ❝  𝑰  𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑲  𝒀𝑶𝑼'𝑽𝑬  𝑮𝑶𝑻  𝑨  𝑭𝑨𝑵.    ❞

@ipanemas    |    closed

DEVIL    OF    UNEXPECTEDNESS  .        it    calls    for    a    handful    of    seconds    dedicated    to    observing  ,        all    ticking    in    curiosity    commixed    silent    examination    to    disperse    obliviousness  .        before    him  ,        an    array    of    haphazard    chiaroscuro  ,        directionless    but    coordinated  .        ah  .            ❛        oh  ?        goes    to    say  ,        she's    my    favorite    fan  .       ❜            with    lightness    agnate    pours    of    𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐞    𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝    from    morning    windows        /        fostering    sunlit    grin  .            ❛        been    a    while    since    i've    seen     her  ,        how's    she    doing  ?        ❜

[ipanemas]

oof,

[ipanemas]

❛    can’t say i didn’t hesitate to find you.    ❜     the stories were kind but rumors always left a rotten taste in his mouth.    everything new - york did,   he simply didn’t say,   much less when he was running its street a boy run away from home that isn’t home.    sounds of the night   &   people who become two - legged things prowling lower than foxes in back - alley passageways littered with trashes from food to bile to food with bile.    the echoed resonance that bounces off of high - rises to obscure the direction of the church bell’s ringing because the city doesn’t want you to believe in salvation cause salvation’s one less rustic death fugitive from the traffic   &   walked away unscathed   &   where is profit in that?    manhattan is a rich man’s playground   &   the outskirts are where the counterfeit mothers   &   fathers laugh counting the monetary value of wood chips.     

❛    night life here carries so many stories it’s difficult to tell what actually has flooring   &   what’s just a bar man’s babbling to impress a woman.    ❜

                     @starsystm     ⦑☀⦒  !