As I walk into the field, lit by the slowly fading light of sunset, I feel your eyes bore into me.
The forest rustles with anticipation, I feel your hands shake from miles away. I know you're there, as I make slow, deliberate strides toward the fence that keeps the wilderness, like you, out of our fields.
The townsfolk stand at the edge of the field from whence I came, watching with fear in their eyes. I do this every friday, and you've ensured I return to my kin safely by sunset of each saturday.
And yet they've not learned to trust me, trust you.
As I hop over the fences, muscle memory proving strong, you nearly step out to embrace me early, just on the cusp of where the villagers could shoot their arrows.
But then you meet my gaze, and falter. You think better of it. You know they'd kill us both for such a display. The forest quiets now, as I tear myself away from your eyes to look back at my kin.
I smile, giving them a little wave. A few of the children wave back excitedly, they eagerly await my visits to you. I always bring back your stories, written onto the birchwood you prefer. The children love them.
They're the only ones in the town who dare to listen.
As I finally take the last step into the verdant path, as I am engulfed by leaves and sticks and grass and you, I laugh. You hold me close, beautiful claws gentle and loving as you grasp my face to pull me down to the moss.
You press a loving kiss to my forehead, a soft chuckle leaving us both as we lay in the bed of moss together. We watch as the twilight sky becomes dotted with small glittering specks, the stars coming down to watch as I tell you my own stories.
Your laugh rings out when I tell you little fables made up by the children, of you and what they imagine you doing. One said you fought a dragon by learning how to breathe fire, another said you were off rescuing faraway princesses and leading them into our forest to stay.
Maybe having an entourage of princesses isn't all that far off from the truth, you jest. Your family tends to be rather dramatic, they're more akin to drama queens, I reply, and your wonderful laugh graces my ears again.
You and I spend the night wandering the forest, the creatures of the night chittering excitedly as we leap over creeks. They adore me, you state matter of factly, and i cannot help but laugh at such a thing.
I am but a townsperson, after all. I may have learnt to respect and adore your forest, and its inhabitants, but I have not shed my skin and become as beautiful and wild as you.
My skills lie in farming, and you say that if I were to stay here my hands would go insane with desire to collect the monthly harvests in a jest.
And you'd be right.
But that's why they adore me, you say after climbing an old wild cherry tree to collect us a feast, they adore me because I am different and new. They enjoy my stories and the children's fables because they have heard all of the forest's tales.
I understand them now, truly, even though I am as plain as you could imagine, to someone who lives in such a beautiful, wild, adventurous place?
The mundane must seem like something out of their wildest fantasies.
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Nex Benedict's death wasn't just for being transgender, it was for being native too. 2 Spirits are revered in many native cultures and it is a native-specific identity. This wasn't just a hate crime against trans & NB individuals, this was also a hate crime against Natives of Turtle Island.
You cannot separate Nex's trans identity from their native identity - this is a case of MMIWG2S (Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls, and 2 Spirits).
Native children being killed at school is nothing new, so it's equally important to talk about Nex's native identity and being intersectional, this is a devastating tragedy for indigenous people, the queer community & especially those of us who are both indigenous and queer.
May Nex rest in peace 🪶
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The Barbie movie really said. Yes you will grow up and childhood wonder will vanish. Yes you will grow up and learn to hate yourself, your body, your awkwardness. Yes you will grow up and lose your confidence and certainty and sense of purpose. Yes you will grow up and the world will seem a bleaker, lonelier place every day, and society will seem bleaker and lonelier every day, and you won’t understand what went wrong in the span of just a few years, what took you from a happy and secure young girl to a sad, uncertain, scared grown woman.
And yet. You will learn to find beauty again. You will find joy in not having a purpose, in building a purpose for yourself. You will find beauty in connection, with the people and the world around you. You will learn to love signs of ageing as proof of a life well lived, of experience and happiness. You will take that little girl by the hand and tell her “I know, this isn’t what you thought it would be, but it’s real. Let me show you how beautiful it can be.”
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It must be an insane mindfuck to know that Batman and Superman, the couple everyone in the JL thought consisted of “intelligent scary guy” and “rainbows and puppies guy” actually moonlight as “bimbo billionaire with no brain cells” and “highly competent but socially awkward investigative reporter” and all of those masks are true enough, but they don’t even come close to scratching the surface of who they are. One layer down from that gets you “Bruce Wayne, Father” and “Kal-El, last son of Krypton” but again, not quite close enough.
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I feel like I've complained about Tim's email situation in Gotham Knights before (edit: I have), but the truth of it is just so funny.
He's signed up for so many podcasts, video game streamers, and random news alerts; it's just a constant barrage of data going straight into his constantly whirring brain. Hell, he even floats the idea of the Batfamily having their own podcast as a way to correct misinformation about them (which Jason shoots down instantly), and it's made me realize something.
Timothy Drake would be a YouTuber.
In this universe specifically, Timothy Jackson Drake, the heir to Drake Industries and the foster son of the late Bruce Wayne would be a YouTuber.
Think about it. It'd be the perfect cover. Who would ever suspect that some 16-year-old nepo baby with a YouTube channel could ever be Red Robin? You'd have to be mad. I mean, look at him.
Red Robin just dropped out of literal thin air and garotted someone four times his size, and you expect anyone to believe that's the same kid who does 24-hour Minecraft charity streams and occasionally drops 6-hour video essays (his last one was on Lex Luthor's illegal bit mining operation on the moon)?
That kid?
You think that kid is Red Robin?
Ch'yah, okay, sure. And the Joker is funny 🤡.
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