i think one of my favourite parts about the "Jason has an army of kids in Crime Alley that will do anything to protect their protector" HC is that they absolutely would inherit all of his 'little shit' traits. they'd throw the other Bats off course on purpose.
Dick, trying to find Jay: Have you seen Hood, by any chance?
Kid: Sure I did. 'e's gone to the ice-cream store down in th'Narrows. He buys us ice-cream, sometimes.
Dick: okay, thanks kid! (backflips away)
Dick:
Dick: there's no ice-cream store near the Narrows.
Tim, just walking by Crime Alley:
The kids, throwing rocks at him while Jason watches in amusement:
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david tennant, matt smith, and jodie whittaker: if doctor who calls me and im available I am so there
me: omg yes slay I love that for you
christopher eccleston and peter capaldi: there’s nothing on god’s green earth that makes me want to reprise the role of the doctor on television
me: omg yes slay I love that for you
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probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.
we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."
at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.
the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.
the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.
what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.
here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.
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k i’ve caved
if this gets 2k i’ll annotate all my alice oseman books
if this somehow gets 3k i’ll show my mural progress/mural reveal
and if this gets 4k i’ll use my paycheck for that month for other people only
and if my some miracle this gets 5k i’ll tell the girl i liked for over a year i liked her
as of feb 12 every goal up to 5k has been met and i’m now taking suggestion for 10k and over cuz like 2 whole months yk
BTW ALL BY APRIL* 15
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if i were an extremely wealthy owner of a television network i would shrimply pick up all the successful shows netflix and hbo and disney cancelled that ppl made petitions abt and the creators said they have more written for
and then make more seasons of them and my network's ratings would be wildly high and also it'd be baller pr or w/e
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very proud of myself for being able to drive but the second people start naming highways and roads and shit i’m out. “did you take 69 south? Come in at pissy shitty parkway?” brother i put it in maps and it took me here. You are speaking another language to me right now. one i am not even remotely fluent in.
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i think a lot about exactly 1 thing from the roman empire: the concept of bread and circus. the idea was that if your population was fed and entertained, they wouldn't revolt. you are asking us to give up our one small life, is the thing - for under 15 dollars an hour.
what would that buy, even. i am trading weekends and late nights and my back health. i am trading slow mornings and long walks and cortisol levels. i am trading sleep and silence and peace. for ... this. for what barely-covers-rent.
life really is more expensive right now. you aren't making that up. i make almost 3 times what i did 5 years ago, and despite an incredibly equal series of bills - i am still struggling. the most expensive line item i added was to own a dog. the money is just evaporating.
we were okay with it because it's a cost-benefit analysis. i could handle the customer harassment and standing all day and the manager's constantly changing temperament - i was coming home to hope, and my life planned in a blue envelope. three hours would buy me my dog's food for a month. i can give up three hours for him, for his shiny coat and wide, happy mouth. three days could be a new mattress, if i was thrifty. if i really scrimped and saved, we could maybe afford a trip into the city.
recently i cried in the car about the price of groceries.
business majors will be mad at me, but my most inflammatory opinion is that people should never be valued at the same place as products. your staff should not be a series of numbers in an excel sheet that you can just "replace" whenever you need something at that moment. your staff should be people, end of sentence.
it feels like someone somewhere is playing a very bad video game. like my life is a toy. like someone opened an app on their phone and hired me in diner dash ultra. they don't need to pay me well or treat me alright - they can always just show me the door. there is always someone more desperate, always someone more willing.
but i go to work and know i could save for years and not afford housing. i am never going to own my own home, most likely. i have no idea how to afford her ring, much less the wedding. my dog doesn't have his own yard. everything i love is on subscription. if i lose my job, i have no "nest egg" to catch my falling.
this thin life - they want me to give up summer for it. to open my mouth and throat and swallow the horrible hours and counted keystrokes. they want me to give up mountains and any non-federal holiday. to give up snow days. to give up talking to my mom whenever i want. to give up visiting the ocean and hearing the waves.
bread and circus worked for a while, actually. it was the kind of plan that would probably now be denounced by republicans as socialist commie liberal pronoun bullshit.
but sometimes i wonder if we should point them to the part of the history book that says: it worked until it didn't.
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