Bet You Duke Has To Save The Others From Kidnappings The Most.

There is no "red line" when it comes to the US government's undying support of Israel.

The IDF has committed thousands upon thousands of war crimes and the US government does not care.

They won't stop sending these ghouls weapons until they quote "achieve total victory."

My work boots are the most expensive shoes I’ve ever owned.

Also the most comfortable. I chose them after trying on several different brands and comparing lifespan vs usage vs comfort - I needed them for a physically demanding job, not the weekend hiking trails. I could have easily chosen cheaper boots that would have lasted long enough to be worth their low price, but I know the Sam Vimes Boot Theory and knew weaker, less comfortable boots would make my life harder in the long run.

So when the outside edge of the heel started wearing down after three years of heavy use I went to the shop I got them from and said “hey this is a common problem for me with how I walk but now it’s affecting my ankles and knees and I don’t wanna have to buy a new pair, is there a way to fix this?”

The salesman at this very fancy upscale boot store said “oh yeah, there’s a shoe repair place that can give you some heel guards - it’ll keep the rubber from wearing out.”

So at 8am this morning right after my 9hr shift ends I went to the shoe repair shop and it is the most hole-in-the-wall, is-this-a-real-business-or-a-mafia-front, am-I-gonna-get-shot tiny cinder block cube I’ve ever seen in my life. I grew up plenty poor and love me a good hole-in-the-wall business, but going from upscale store to this cash-only repair shop gave me whiplash. Wasn’t expecting this when a guy who wears three piece suits to sell boots said it’s the best place to go.

The skinny kid behind the counter looks somehow 16 and 25 at the same time, but when I tell him this place was recommended he smiles and says to hand over my boots. I hand him the vaguely warm foot-smelling boots, and stand in my socks in the 3’ square entryway surrounded by every color leather polish you could buy and watch as he turns my boots around in his hands, sizes up a crescent moon bits of plastic, and unceremoniously hammers tiny nails through them before handing them back.

The heels are perfectly level again. I can walk without almost rolling my ankles. They don’t clack loudly on the pavement or feel different. This is gonna fix my knee pain. It cost $10.

This kid had every tool he needed within arms reach, worked fast and smoothly, I was in and out the door in less than 8 minutes, and it only cost $10.

I didn’t think anything could cost only $10 anymore. I’m so used to hyperinflation prices I was spiritually thrown back to the 1400’s visiting the cobbler in town square. This kid might have been that cobbler and just decided to never die.

I’m still reeling from the whiplash, and gobsmacked at the price, and thrilled I didn’t have to go buy new, worse work boots (cuz I don’t have that kind of money for a second pair, I’m expecting these ones to last a decade) and it feels like I just experienced one of the rare little chunks of magic that floats around our world.

Dick: on the one hand, I would give anything to hear my mother’s voice again

Dick: on the other hand, not being able to remember helps me avoid certain types of psychological warfare

*sounds of yelling in the background as Damian mimicries Janet Drake*

Perfect days do not exist. Perfect moments do not exist, but this one is damn close. Or, well, as close as I can get with my massive amounts of cynicism and jaded world view. But, it remains; the sky is a gentle blue, tinged with yellow from the Western sun. The air is warm but not hot. The lake looks as if it was made from silk, gently rippling under the faintest of breezes. There are ducks and people in the park, all admiring the day under the shade of trees and screaming of cicadas. I have a book in my hand and a song in my ears. An ice cream truck is driving past as I write this, and I get to go home to a pair of cats and a cup of tea. The bluffs are on the horizon, accented by the occasional wind turbine and water tower. This moment is good, this day was good. Despite all the bad moments, there are good times. Nothing us perfect, but because of that I will always savour the sweet, maple-sugar taste of a peaceful, pleasant moment.

me rn ^-^

A fanfic idea:

Bruce was able to rescue Jason before he died, and after this experience, Jason stopped being Robin.

He became afterwards the golden child, he goes to college (with a scholarship), helps out in the city library, teaches children (helps with their homeworks and helps them to study), works part time in a car garage in crime alley, and is a supportive brother.

And it pisses his siblings off.

Because there has to be something fishy because no one, really no one, is that perfect.

And there is something fishy.

He is also Red Hood.

No one knows, and the vigilantes never talk to Jason about "the family business" because he needs to concentrate on his studies and other stuff.

So imagine, Batmans suprise when the JL was able to catch Red Hood.

Someone takes Jasons helmet off in front of Batman, Nightwing, and other members

And Jason, who wears also a domino mask, doesn't look Batman in the face even as he says :

"Hey Dad. I can explain."

And Dick loses his shit, he laughs so hard because, Jason, The golden child, the one who gave up on being a vigilante, who reads to children in the library, is a goddamn crimelord.

Bruce just stands there frozen because wtf Jason?!

And Dick takes selfies with Jason being tied up and calles the other Batkids in because they should definitely not be left out of it.

(Edit: As someone who doesn't really write (or can write good stories), I want to say, feel free to use this prompt for a fanfiction. Just please give credits to me (because I don't know if someone else had also this idea and posted it) and please inform me if you publish something (because I want to read a fanfiction like this too))

Find yourself a bro who treats you like a bro and exchanges ideas for killer stories inspired by music. Also helps if you can debate intensely over taxonomy.

Reminder that communications in all of Gaza have been cut off for the past three days. This means no one can make calls to check on family members within Gaza or to report and call for help/ambulances following Israeli airstrikes. As a result, many end up dying due to injuries or being trapped under the rubble with no possible way of notifying anyone. Of course this also goes hand in hand with Israel intensifying their bombardment of every part of Gaza after having isolated it from the world.

You can help by purchasing e-sims. I will share a long post with all the details and instructions shortly and you can also Venmo smaller amounts if you're unable to buy a whole bundle so that bigger plans can be bought for families.

OK ITS BEEN LIKE FIVE MINUTES BUT. The guilt Bruce would feel and then ignore? Yeah, the never telling Tim he's proud of him? The lack of any communication because he couldn't keep a kid from taking up the mantle of a haunting mistake, and now is torn between constant mourning and the pride of his newest soldier learning? GODS. Ok I'm done.

What if Jason attacked Tim, not because he was jealous, not to send a message to Bruce, not because he felt like he was being replaced, but because he was horrified to see another kid in the suit? What if it was a warning, letting him know that this? This pain, this threat to his very being, this risk of death? That was all that was out there for him in this life, so go back to your cushy life and leave it alone before you get killed. (The "like I did" is left unsaid)

What if the reason Bruce pushed so hard against Tim at first was for the same reason? The fear of repeating his biggest mistake, the horror he felt as a child actively asked to be put in the suit because nothing but tragedy came to the boys before him.

I dunno, just feels a little fucked up and awful to me.