Lucius Fox is in the drive thru for some coffee, and like. He's just. He's had a time, okay?
He's stuck on some equations in regard to the amount of torsion a joint would go through if it's half in his dimension and half in another, and it's driving him up a wall.
He's been up for like forty-eight hours, he's tired, he's thirsty, he just wants a coffee, and also how to solve this dilemma.
He doesn't expect the barista in the drive-thru he's ranting about the engineering issues to actually provide decent feedback, and give him a few alternatives.
So he rushes to the pick-up window, not even caring to order, to look at this godsend of a barista.
It's a scrawny kid with black hair and blue eyes, looking startled. Boy can't be more than eighteen.
He asks what college the kid is going to, or plans to go to.
To his absolute horror, the kid-Danny, according to the nametag-says he can't afford college. That he'd had a stint in highschool where he just hadn't been able to focus, and his parents had spent every penny they had on their own inventions.
So that was why he was a barista; because if he worked there for four years, they would offer tuition assistance.
Which.
No. No no no no no.
Lucius pulls around to march into the store, Bruce Motherfucking Wayne already blearily on his phone.
He is getting this kid, and any friend of his, into college.
If Bruce won't foot the bill, he will.
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before you know about women, you hear that you do not need to love the man, just that you need to love him through his manhood. which is to say you have seen the future painted in lamb's blood over your eyes - how your mother shoots you a look about your father's inability to cook right. how your aunt holds her wineglass and says i'm gonna kill em. men, right! how your best friend bickers with her boyfriend, how she says i can't help it. i come back to him.
you learn: men are gonna cheat. men aren't going to listen when you're talking, because you're nagging. men think emotions are stupid. they think your life is vapid and your hobbies are embarrassing. men will slam things, but that's because men are allowed to be angry. if you get loud, you're hysterical. if a man gets loud - well, men are animals, men are dogs, men can't control their hands or their eyes or their bodies. they're going to make a snide comment about you in the locker room, about your body, about how you're so fucking annoying. you're going to give him kids, and he will give you the money for the kids, and you're going to be running the house 24/7 - but he gets to relax after a long day, because his job is stressful. the man is on stage, and is a comedian, and says "women!"
and you are supposed to love that. you are supposed to love men through how horrible they are to you - because that's what women do. that's what good women do. wife material. your father even told you once - it'll make sense when you're older. it was like staring down a very lonely tunnel.
it feels like something's caught in your throat, but it's all you know, so. it's okay that you see sex as a necessary tool, a sort of okay-enough ritual to keep him happy, even though he doesn't seem to care about happiness as-applied-to you. it is relationship upkeep. it is kissing him and smiling even though he didn't brush his teeth. it is getting on your knees and looking up and holding back a sigh because he barely holds you as you panic through the night. it's not like the sex is bad and you do like feeling wanted. and besides! he's a man! like... they're another species. you'll never be able to actually communicate, right. he isn't listening.
you just don't get it. you don't feel that sense of i'm gonna climb him like a tree. mostly it just feels fucking exhausting. you play the part perfectly. you smile and nod and are "effortlessly" charming. and it's fine! it's alright! you even love him, if you're looking. you could have good life, and a good family, and perfectly happy.
in the late night you google: am i broken. you google i'm not attracted to my husband. you google i get turned on by books but not by him. you google how to get better in bed.
the first time he yells at you, it almost feels like blankness. like - of course this is happening. this is always how it was going to end up. men get angry, and they yell, and you sit there in silence.
you mention it to your friend - just the once - while you're drunk. she shrugs and says it's like that with me too, i just try to forget and move on. men are always gonna hear what they want to. pick your battles and say sorry even though he's in the wrong. you play solitaire online for a month. you go to your therapist appointment and preach about how you're both so in love.
after all, you have a future to want. nobody lied about it - how many instagram posts say marriage is hard. say real love takes work. say we fight like cats and dogs but the best part is that we always make up. how many of your friends say happy anniversary to the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. if you really loved him - loved yourself too - you'd accept that men are just different from you.
the first time she kisses you, it's on a dare at a party. something large and terrifying whips through your body. you wake up sweating from dreams where her mouth is encrusted with pearls and you pick them off one by one with your teeth. fuck. you sit at the computer and your almost-finished game of sim city. you think about your potential perfect life and your potential future family. you google am i gay quiz with your little hands shaking.
you delete each letter slowly. you don't need to love him. you just need to keep going.
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Hey, in case no one told you there's nothing wrong with being an addict. You're not a terrible person just because you're addicted to something. You aren't inherently cruel, and you're not vile. Morals have nothing to do with addiction. You being a "good" or a "bad" person is separate from your addiction. Lots of us have addictions and have addictive behavior. Whether it's a substance, either illegal or legal, or a physical thing to participate in like media, addiction is something human beings have always dealt with. Stop equating morality with addiction.
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We NEED to talk more about Neil's escape from Columbia because I don't think anyone's fully appreciating just how unhinged it really was. Neil really hiked six miles along the freeway in the South Carolina summer heat, face bruised from being knocked out cold dressed like a homeless person carrying a big ass duffle bag and started strolling up to truck drivers like, "Hello there! I'm just a regular sociology student interviewing long haul truck drivers to learn about their culture! Would you allow me to interview you while you drive to your next stop?" And then he did in fact interview a truck driver AND take full notes like he was really doing a presentation on it. That is FERAL
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I can't believe that canonly Crowley showed up at the flood looking like an absolute babe, and then the next time Aziraphale saw him he's Bildad the Shuhite. I'm shocked Aziraphale recognised them so quickly.
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