Latest Posts by libraryidealist - Page 14

Details: Anguish, August Friedrich Schenck - 1876/1880

"Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood ".

George Orwell, 1984

This. Is. Epic. You win the internet.

My family is not very religious most of the time.  We pray at Christmas and Easter and Thanksgiving dinners, and my mom’s entire side of the family excluding her parents and siblings is hardcore religious so whenever we do anything with them it’s kind of religious.

But the point is, most of the time we aren’t, but every year at Christmas time, a church in the next town over puts on a Bethlehem and it’s kind of a tradition to go.  They go all out.  The building is massive, and they’ve got it all decked out.  There’s animals and stalls and everyone is in costume and in character.  When you get there, they give you some pennies and you can go and barter for cool little trinkets, and there’s other more expensive things you can buy with your own money.  And they have the best apple cider.  All in all, it’s pretty cool.

But anyway.  We go every year, bundled up in hats and scarves and mittens, and have a good time.  We’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember, and my mom talks about going when she was a kid.

I’m going to mention again that everyone is massively in character, especially the really super hardcore religious adults.  Because this is an important fact.

Every year since I was about thirteen or so, there’s been this one lady who worked at a stall selling ponchos (I have, like, three.  They’re really cool).  She was probably there before that, but I was thirteen when she started trying to barter for me to marry her son, who was also about thirteen.

“What a pretty little thing.  I think you’d make a very good wife for my son.  These are your parents?  I’ll give you six goats for your daughter’s marriage to my son.”

Her son, meanwhile, is in the “shop” behind her looking absolutely mortified and like he’d rather be anywhere else than there, and I’m pretty sure I probably looked just as embarrassed.

My parents gave her some sort of excuse, like it wasn’t enough goats or they weren’t ready to marry me off yet or something, and we moved on.

The next year we’re back again, and come up near to the same stall.

“Ah!  You’re back again!  Have you married your daughter off yet?  I can up my offer to nine goats and three chickens for your daughter to marry my son.”

Somehow she remembered the exact people she’d tried to buy their daughter off of for an entire year?  So my parents are refusing her offers again and me and the son are trading embarrassed looks and we go on our way.

And then it happens again.  And again.  And again.  Each and every one of the last six years this lady has tried to buy me in goats to be her son’s wife. 

 A couple years ago when we were waiting in line to get inside my mom jokingly said that they should accept this year and see what she’d do and I completely refused because it was mortifying enough as it was.

One year we brought my friend with us and we’re waiting outside and my sister was like “Are you gonna sell Kee this year?” and my dad was like “Maybe if there’s enough goats” and my friend was confused as heck and I was like “This lady tries to buy me to marry her son every year.  I told you that” and she’s like “Yeah but I didn’t think this was a thing that actually happened” and she was still skeptical and by the time my parents had finished refusing the lady’s offer, she’s killing herself laughing and then spent the next few months telling me I couldn’t look at guys because I already had a fiancée.

Anyway, it happened again this Christmas and the son has somehow gotten almost ridiculously attractive since last year.  The speech this year had something to do with how I was far too old to not have a husband yet, and the son and I just rolled our eyes at each other as his mom tried to barter with my parents for me.

This year’s offer was twenty six goats and nine chickens.  My sister looked up how much goats are worth, and was mad our parents didn’t sell me so she could have sold the goats and gotten $2000-$8000 for them.  My dad says they’re waiting out on an offer of a camel.  My brother thinks they should have it more than once a year so he can get more apple cider.

Now I’m back at uni, and in my first psych class of the semester the guy sitting beside me looked really familiar.  

As in his-mom-tries-to-buy-me-with-goats-every-Christmas familiar.

That kind of familiar.

We introduced ourselves before class started and I sat there for a couple minutes readying to make a total fool of myself in case I was wrong before turning to him again.

“This is going to sound really weird if you aren’t who I think you are, but by any chance does your mom try to buy you a wife with goats every Christmas?”

His friend gives me a weird look as he walks past me to sit on the other side of him, but he’s definitely putting the pieces together.

“That’s you?  Bethlehem in [city name], right?  God, my mom is so mortifying.”

And we both kinda laugh and meanwhile his friend is giving us both weird looks now because apparently he didn’t know that his friend’s mom was trying to buy him a wife using livestock.

So he turns to his friend and is like

“Oh, I forgot to introduce you.  Danny, this is my fiancée, Kee.”

And I kinda rolled my eyes and was like

“I’m not actually your fiancée.  Your mom hasn’t offered my parents enough goats yet.  But apparently my dad will sell me for a camel.”

And he laughed and shook his head like

“I am not telling my mom that.  I don’t want to see what she has planned for if your parents ever accept.”

So yeah.  His friend was really confused by that point and we explained it to him and it turns out he’s pretty cool and we’re Facebook friends now and hang out in psych classes.  Apparently his mom only ever tries to buy me for him and she and my mom had gone to the same church growing up which is why she can always pick us out.

So yeah.  That’s the story of how some lady tries to use goats to buy me to be her ridiculously attractive son’s wife every Christmas, and how he’s in my class and we’re friends now.

We need a Spider-Verse deleted scene where Miles and Peter are sitting on a rooftop, overlooking the city, and they get to talking about Aaron, and Miles starts laughing, like, "He showed me this Thing, watch this, man!" and he puts his hand on Peter's shoulder to do the "Hey" bit and accidentally electrocutes Peter and sends him ricocheting through the air for the distance of, like, 7 skyscrapers.

("ᴼʰ ᵐʸ ᵍᵒᵈ ᴵ ᵏᶦˡˡᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ˢᵖᶦᵈᵉʳ⁻ᵐᵃⁿ" - Miles, under his breath. "I AM SO PROUD OF YOU, BUD!!" - Peter, who still hasn't landed.)

wait are there really new people joining this site. i thought it was a hoax.

"I see you chose the strawberry-milk variant."

"You got a problem with that, giggle mug?"

Went to a Boba place recently that played Jazz music outside and it reminded me of an old black and white detective film 🧋

Do you know what I hate? What I'm really, really angry at?

We're not allowed to express love.

And it pisses me off.

Yes! That boy in my class looks stunning in that green sweater! I gaze in awe at the way my friend looks like an urban goddess at midnight drenched in street lights, surrounded by dancing teenagers at a party in the theatre parking lot! Another one looks like dawn and summer fields fell in love with her! I adore the way my classmate dresses like a punk fairy, with dirty blonde braids reaching to her hips and grazing her red leather jacket! The boy who lends me his eraser has the most fantastic sense of humour, the way he looks down for a second before he grins!

I love herb gardens! And perfume oils! Old books and fantasy novels! Dope-ass boots paired with a nice coat and conservative scarf clashing with my pink hair! I love poems! And jasmine tea!

I love how the old Vietnamese lady runs the best soup bar in town. How excited my seat neighbour gets over fancy notebooks. I love it when a fellow teenage girl hesitantly smiles back at me across the street.

Why is she hesitant? Because there's that ever-lasting question. Is this the socially designated response? Am I supposed to react differently? Am I supposed to react at all? Wouldn't it be "cooler" to ignore me?

Is it weird when I tell a boy I hardly know that he looks epic in that sweater? Is it over the top when I tell that girl in my French class how cute her boots are every time she wears them? Is waving at people I barely know but I get a happy vibe from bad?

Is it wasteful and expensive that I love perfume and essential oils? Is me wearing my mother's expensive coat with leather boots and purple hair childish? Is my idealism and wide-eyed hope to be laughed at?

We're not allowed to express love.

I had so much of it.

third week in Gotham after getting tranferred here from Central City:

Ok, routine took some getting used to, but I think I've got it now: Avoid elderly neighbor's house; niece is called...Dolphin? Fish? Yeah, don't mess with her.

College boy on the corner isn't selling drugs, he's just prepping for finals and hasn't felt sun in days.

Avoid favourite coffee shop around 4pm: That's Poison Ivy's usual time and she sometimes throws hands with the bartender. Who also knows her order off by heart. They have the weirdest relationship.

Just got transferred to Gotham Police Department from Central City, and it's so...weird?? There was an immediate drug bust, the perps were wearing speedos and joker masks, my partner just subtracted 20% of the cocain as "travelling fees" 'cause we're driving through the east end?? What! is! this place!!

At least rent's low.

Getting into the comic side of a fandom is so hard. Like, yeah I want to see Harley Quinn having divious fun with Cat and Ivy robbing Bruce, but I also want to see her murder the Joker! What do you mean it's not the same story!!!!

You want me to pay HOW MUCH for the entire time line?!

I... I don't know why not more people have reposted this. Because while I don't recognise the melody, the story, as my own, I recognise the beat. The rythm of finding out so many truths, so essential, in your life while elders tell you you're barely living. I beg to differ. These are my most vital years.

apparently teenagers don’t know a lot about life. I mean, its a fair argument. if I’m lucky I’ve still got a good 62 years left on this space rock. but just for shits and giggles, lets take a look at what i’ve learned so far.

when i was four, i learned that everyone does not, in fact, see blurry colors and shapes. i also learned that the level of fucked up my eyesight is can be measured in numbers. wicked.

when i was five, i went to kindergarten. in that first year of school, i learned that books are a way better way to spend my time than playdates.

when i was seven, i noticed that teachers really, really like me. and i really, really liked them too. turns out, elementary school teachers and i have a common love for whiteboard markers and “good job” stamps.

when i was eight, i learned that parents don’t always sleep in the same bed. I learned that sometimes dad’s voice gets really fucking loud and mom learned how to run when she was a kid too. i noticed that mom didn’t really get out of bed much anymore. she didn’t really do much of anything anymore. but she still let me sleep in her bed, so i didn’t really think about it anymore.

when i was nine, i learned that dogs have babies just like humans. i learned that puppies need more attention than even i did. i learned to love my puppies more than anyone else i was yet to meet. the runt of the litter died. by this, i was taught that the weak don’t make it far.

when i was nine, i learned that adults roughhouse too. but most of the time they aren’t joking. I learned that acrylic nails against a stubbly jaw ends with red and blue flashing lights and mom spending the night somewhere i couldn’t go.

when i was ten, i had to move from the only house i could remember. had to say goodbye to the room i painted into a blue sky. had to say goodbye to the pool in the backyard, where the first friend i made, had ever had learned my name.

when i was eleven, i met my first best friend. she was darker than me, but she held so much light. i remember talking on the swings and chasing boys through the multi-colored playground. i remember planning times to go to the bathroom so we could see each other between classes.

when i was twelve, my first best friend changed. she still had that light, but she used it to manipulate her way to the top of the popularity list. she wore too-tight shirts and white american eagle jeans. she made it clear that she wasn’t bringing a plus one to the top with her. she still came to my house, and when no one from school was around i could pretend that she hadn’t changed at all. that’s when i learned how to ignore the bad parts of people, even when they hurt you over and over again.

when i was twelve, i also learned that sometimes, people hate you for no good reason. after my first best friend, i met a girl. a-line blonde bob, jeans and tees just like me. she blended in, and i didn’t know who she really was until it was too late. i lost my phone in gym. my mom pinged the location and i heard it coming from a class down the hall. i opened the door, and there she was. my phone in her hand, her trying to turn it off. me biting my lip, running out to the bathroom to hide from my mom and her. she cut 6 inches of my hair off after we caught her. my mom got her expelled, and i learned one more thing that year. revenge isn’t sweet. it’s tasteless.

when i was thirteen, i learned that new situations are worse than the one you were trying to escape in the first place. I learned that the only time i felt safe was in the bathroom stall with my legs on the toilet seat. wanted so badly to be invisible. i learned that the only way to have a few minutes without anxiety, was to bleed. I learned to call the sting and the velvety warmth home, and since then i am uncomfortable without that burn.

when i was fourteen, i learned that writing is a better way to spend the time than much of anything else. with no direction i wrote short stories, bad poems, and journaled til i had a callus on my thumb. i smeared the pages with blood and never got more than halfway through a journal before getting bored of the cover. i learned to write and write and write until everything i had inside of me boiled down to hundreds of thousands of words.

when i was fifteen, i learned that no and maybe are synonyms to the wrong type of boy. i realized that even i wasn’t immune to the desperate persuasion that comes a guy who wants to get off. i started cussing a lot more. our movie dates ended with me crying myself to sleep, wondering why i didn’t say pull away when his hand found mine, why i let him use me like that, why i didn’t just walk out of the theater, why i didn’t fucking end it right there. i found the strength to later, and the revenge i got as tears streamed down his face was the same: tasteless.

when i was sixteen i learned that you can love so many people at once, all in different ways. a boy who led the group, kind when it matters and a great listener. a boy who made everyone laugh, with beautiful curls and honest hands. a girl who went to school in the town over, a voice that gets the birds harmonizing and me head over heels. a girl who supplies the music, mostly oldies she somehow got me to listen to and love. and this is how a romantic slowly meets their biggest weakness.

when I was seventeen I learned for the third time that you should walk away from experimental girls, girls who have a history of only being halfway interested, girls who say all the right things and give up when they win your heart. walk away from those girl friends that flirt when it’s fun. just because you give them everything they want doesn’t mean they will choose you when the dust settles.

I’m eighteen now. i’m learning that growth is something you have to work on every day, confrontation isn’t positive or negative, and not everyone is the enemy. i’m learning to love all over again (for the sixth time). it’s only been two months and i’ve already gained so much. here’s to the next ten.

Germany Gothic

- there are many fields of flowers. Pick yourself, the sign says. Leave money in box. Leave the money in the box. Bring a knife, not scissors for the flowers. Do not use the one supplied, you don't want your fingerprints on it.

- The playground is empty after eight. Empty. Don't be convinced otherwise. She's not there, the playground is empty.

- If you have a problem, do not approach the teacher watching over the children. Do not approach the mother of three. Smile and greet them, but approach the child waiting behind them. They are the ones truly guarding the children. They will help you. Their guardians guard something different.

- Some time ago, men in brown shirts stole people from their houses. These houses are marked with gold, but not by us. We only know not to step on the gold. The stolen people will not haunt you, the neighbours that watched will.

- This buildings is old, he proudly says. They survived the wars. You smile. You do not asked why they survived. The houses know your question, they grin. Ask them later, he doesn't know.

- A soccer field's lights are always on. People are always playing. Don't approach them; you don't know who they are playing against. Pray they win every night.

- The beggar is not hungry. Not for food. Be kind, and they will ask their price from someone else.

- If you are lost, don't ask the police officer. Ask the street musician. The oldest person in the city doesn't remember a day without that saxophone sounding through the streets. Music is a hobby for many species, and they know better than you where you came from.

- trust the fields. They have seen young girls safely pass. If it calls to you, answer it.

- avoid the people smiling at you, the ones with bright eyes and pretty scarves. No one has seen them here before. Walk beside the ones in grey and black who stare forward, never meeting your eyes. Trust me, they are watching you. If they do meet your eyes, they are telling you you are in danger.

- The bus driver is your friend. The security camera in the back of the bus is not.

-You do not talk to the person in the seat next to yours on the bus. Do not ask them where they're going. Do not ask where they need to get out. Humankind may have buried body language a long time ago, but it will serve you well now.

Doctor of Fire and Madness. I love it.

Lord of Nightmares and Madness

Among the stars on a Friday afternoon (2022)

Soft and Safe

I have a friend, let's call her Soft and Safe.

Let's call her that because it's shorter than Fluttering butterflies and excited hands waving, lilac purple capris and silk blouse, also soft ripped jeans and oversize hoodie. It's shorter than the Life of the party, social butterfly, but also sleepover deep talk.

She was the first one to fully support me when I came out as bi. She's still the one I feel most comfortable telling my insecurities to.

She's physically beautiful, yes, with brown curls and doe eyes, but more like her soul would make any body beautiful, you get it? It really doesn't matter how she looks. Does that make sense?

I know Soft and Safe doesn't see herself this way, so this is my way of telling her. A Tumblr post she'll never see.

Because all Soft and Safe sees is her flat chest and her acne prone skin. All she sees is that she was asked to the ball last in dance class last year. She was recently told she has depression, and she said "yeah, checks out." I don't think she sees how much I admire her, and want her to stay in my life forever. But I never told her.

So, how can you be sure you're not someone's Soft and Safe?

A war I didn't sign up for.

We're teenage girls, me and my friends. In every sense of the word.

We've got one who loves k-dramas, Tom Holland and makes great almond cake, we've got a tiny one who's sarcasm mutes me every time (to her great delight) and loves anime, we've got one who's the light and laughter of any party, who's soft safety and recently was diagnosed with depression, and we've got a childish and dreaming one who's beautiful, stunning. Everyone tells her. It frightens her.

I haven't seen my friends in a while.

No one's fault, just life. School, tests, a pandemic. So imagine my happiness! Our excitement! When a friend's friend invited us to a party, and we found time to meet up beforehand, to talk! Laugh! Eat pizza!

My friends came. And we laughed. I told them I've never been to a party, that I was pretty nervous. Soft And Safe grinned at me, told me it was fine, the boys that invited us were nice. And guess what? She had kissed one of them!! A drunken make-out, wasn't that cool??!

Then she stopped. Her smile slipped a little

Well, not that cool. She started, sitting there beside my bed.

Not all of it.

And sentence for sentence, Soft And Safe, who I grew up with, who I'd known like the other girls since I was ten, new in town and was adopted into their little group, hesitantly told me a story I'll never forget. Because it taught me life.

Because the boy she made out with was nice.

Until he asked her to kiss him on the cheek for a picture and she felt too uncomfortable and drunk to say no.

Until, when they were kissing alone in a room, he kept trying to put his hand under her shirt, even when she pushed it away.

Until he pulled her onto his lap, crotch pushed uncomfortably against her jeans, and held her waist down.

Until he barked at the girl checking up on Soft And Safe to get out.

Until he put his hand into her pants, and answered "everything is fine, relax", when she told him she didn't like that.

Until he pushed her over the sink.

Until, when she said she didn't want that and that they should go back downstairs, he got back claps and fist bumps from the other boys.

She got her best friend, whom she had rejected a week earlier, call her a slut. He said he could never see her the same way again.

We thought it wouldn't happen to us. But as we sat there in my room, staring at her forced smile, eyes frantic, we realised how she had done everything right.

And it had still happened.

It had happened to me three weeks earlier, at my gym.

And we realised

It wouldn't stop. We wouldn't grow out of it.

Being a woman would be a war we hadn't signed up for.

We went to the party. I saw him. I didn't deck him like I had planned. Because everyone would think I'm the one out of line.

For real same

Do y’all think that the local heroes would be like... offended? If I said Wonder Woman was my favorite hero?

They’re all super cool, don’t get me wrong! But I’ve just always looked up to her.

Culture Shock

Guys, I am currently experiencing culture shock, in the city I live in since my birth.

Let me explain...

After my school burned down (again), I got a letter from an unknown source (though I believe it's from one of the Wayne Kids).

The Letter said that I had received a full scholarship, allowing me to visit Gotham Academy for my senior year.

My entire family was overjoyed, because that meant that we didn't have to look for a new school AND that i get a decent education (plus Gotham Academy doesn't look too bad on College Applications).

In the letter I was also invited to a visitation day (which was today) and let me tell you, that school is... it's something else.

It looks as if it's never been burned, they have non damaged and clean tables, PLANTS!!!, and MORE THAN ONE room full of Computers that aren't from 2002.

We also ate in their cafeteria, and y'all, it's edible food.

I am absolutely floored.

They also gave me my school-uniform and honestly, those are the nicest clothes I've ever owned.

(I mean I guess you can expect these things for the price tag. I mean I couldn't afford the books, let alone the tuition, so thank you whoever gave me the scholarship <3)

Anyway, I am excited for my first day of school.... tommorow?? (Damnit Gotham Academy is in a different school district, my twin brother got another 2 weeks of holidays(Im not gonna hear the end of it)).

Some #Only in Gotham posts because I’m stressed and this is my coping mechanism

Guys guys guys

So I was in Central City today visiting some friends earlier this morning, and then the city gets attacked by these... aliens? Weird reptillian cryptids?? Who knows, but they were not happy nor friendly. We were all at this nice cafe just vibing in the outdoor area when this bipedal, green-gray reptile thing pops out of the manhole outside the cafe and goes absolutely feral. He was super close to my group so I grab my croc repellant (for non gothamites, its’ basically pepper spray but really bad-smelling to ward off croc if he ever shows up) out in an instant and I sprayed it right in the face.

Then I grabbed the nearest thing—some poor old guy’s metal walking frame—and whacked the reptile in the back of the head and it crumpled basically instantly.

And after the JL had stepped in to deal with the rest of them (not many, from what I’ve heard, but better safe than sorry I guess), heaps of people were freaking out about it because, well, this is Central City, they don’t get this kind of crime, they’re not prepared for this, yada yada.

Then that manhole pops up and everyone freaks out again because “oh god they’re back” but it’s just Batman dragging a bunch of tied up reptiles out of the sewers using some kind of winch set-up. It was almost comical—a daisy chain of reptiles being lifted out of this manhole in Central City by our favourite Goth Cryptid.

The cops were completely floored. The civilians didn’t know whether to be more scared of Bats or the reptiles. I mean, it was literally the middle of the day, and it’s rare to see Batman in daytime in Gotham but I guess this was an extenuating circumstance, so I guess I see why they were scared.

Batman just looks down at me standing over an unconscious reptilian holding the can of croc repellant and he’s just like “I’m guessing you’re from Gotham.”

I was like “yeah. Can’t escape the damn cryptids wherever I am.”

And tHEN he LAUGHS. Like, it was a small and quiet snort but it happened and I’m still shook. I have officially joined the “I made Batman laugh” squad. I can ascend peacefully now.

He seemed super embarrassed but asked if my friends and I were okay before he turned on his heel and stalked over to Flash and Woner Woman, a daisy-chain of reptiles in tow.

#lmao #onlyingotham #Batman #IMadeBatmanLaugh #ITookDownAReptileCryptid #GothamIsWeirdOkay #WeGottaBePreparedForAnything

———

I just heard this Metropolis guy try and trash Bruce Wayne to his friend at this diner and like five seperate people (myself included) turned around to roast the hell outta him. Like, yeah, he’s a billionaire, which is a whole can of worms I don’t wanna open right now, but he’s basically the only reason this city’s still standing and functioning (especially after the quakes and the no-man’s-land bs). His kids—most are poc and would not have thrived in the system—are all successful and work with their communities to better other people’s lives. Bruce Wayne is basically the only reason I got through high school (and am now in college); a scholarship is the only reason most of my friends have enough money to make rent. He “accidentally” spilled wine on Lex Luthor when he made a sexist remark. Also, didn’t it come out recently that he’s basically been funding the JL o at least is a major financial backer? An icon. You can shut your mouth, Jeremy.

One girl Instagram lived the whole exchange (she was filming beforehand I think) and it was magical.

Later on, Robin (the newest one, with the swords) shows up and he’s like “thank you for defending the honour of Mr Wayne”. I was like “kid,,,, you don’t need to thank me but you’re welcome”. he just kinda looks at me for a second and says “you eat free tonight” and chucks a bunch of dollar notes at me and disappears into the wilderness (ie. an alleyway). It was so surreal.

#GiveWayneABreak #BruceWayne #LetTheManLiveHisLife #GothamitesProtectTheirOwn #EvenTheBatkidsAreProtectiveOfHim

———

Yeah so....... I just saw some of Two-Face’s goons about to enter a bank, weapons drawn, and I’m scared because their boss is in Arkham, and the Rogues’ most loyal people always get antsy and trigger-happy when their bosses are off the board. I’d dialed 911 when I first saw them and ducked into an alley.

But then I see one of them stop dead in their tracks—Goon A we’ll call him—and says “hey, Wayne’s in there”.

Goon B: “Oh, we’re not meant to go after Wayne. Pack it in fellas.”

Goon C: “Huh? why not?”

Goon A: “Boss-man said so. Wayne used to be his best bud. Helped him campaign to be DA and stuff. Went to college together. Nice man.”

Goon B: “Got no problem wth that. Wayne’s the only reason my boys got through school. Besides, we mess with Wayne, the boss and Harley will be on our asses.”

Goon C: “Huh. Fair enough. We’ll go to the other location then.”

And then they just,,,, left.

#EvenTheRoguesWannaProtectHim #BruceWayne #HarveyDent #TheGuysGotCaughtAfter #IToldDetectiveMontoya #AndSheJustSighedForAReallyLongTime #OnlyInGotham #GothamIsWeird

———

Today I was in a Zoom call with some of my coworkers on the other side of the world, sitting in the kitchen facing the living room, when Red Robin comes crashing through my window. I just kinda turned around to see if he was badly injured (he wasn’t, couldn’t even see any blood) so I just continued on with what I was saying and he sheepishly left through the same window.

My coworkers are looking at me like “Jacob are you okay??” And I’m like, “yeah man, that was just Red Robin, he has unfortunate luck with windows. Soon enough one of the other Bats will come knocking with a replacement or a cash refund. Though, I should probably just invest in plexi-glass.”

One of my coworkers went on a bit of a rant about “vigilantes causing property damage and disrupting the peace” and i’m like “Mark I’d rather Batman crashing through my door or window once a month to getting buried in my twenties in his abscence,” and he was like “yeah, fair enough” so we just continued with our call.

After my call, Blonde Batgirl shows up and apologises for the window. I ask about plexi-glass and if Red Robin is alright.

She’s like “yeah he’s fine but he’s getting Bat-Lectured for being reckless which is why I’m here. Also from what Oracle can tell you should be able to get plex-glass installed within the week.”

#OnlyInGotham #GettingBatLecturedDoesNotSoundFun #ThanksOracle #BatmanDontBeTooHardOnTheKid #Gothamite #MeanwhileInGothamCity #GothamCity #RedRobin

———

So, Red Hood piggy-backed me up to my apartment yesterday because my heel broke when I was fleeing from these guys trying to mug me (or worse) and I sprained my ankle. He carried me up four flights of stairs and helped me get into my apartment and wrap my foot properly.

I told him to take some of my nana’s lasagna (because our local vigilante needs to keep his strength up! Man’s gotta eat, and from what I hear he’s not swimming in cash) and he got real quiet for a while before saying “yeah, sure”.

So he ate some lasagna while I called in sick to work (who were very understanding, surprisingly).

Then after a little while he’s like “bye” and jumps outta my window.

An icon.

#RedHood #OnyInGotham #WeStanALegend #IHopeYouLikedTheLasagna #MyNanaSaysSheWillMakeMoreForYou #GrowingUpInCrimeAlley

No judging if you don’t want me to, free advise too if you want it.

 But really, I’ll listen to all your problems and rants :)

Reblog to let your followers know you are a safe person to come out to.

Never argue with stupid people. They will drag you down to their level and beat you with experience.