listen. aging into your thirties rocks. yes your joints get a little creaky. yes you can’t sleep in a pretzel on the floor anymore after a concert or a convention. and you lose some friends. but the thing is that you sort out who your real friends are and you sort out who you really are. and you get to see your friends settling into careers they like, and adopt new dogs and cats, and you find a job you can stand, and get really good at arts and crafts, and maybe that book you loved as a kid gets a movie deal and it doesn’t suck, and you learn to like new food and bake your own bread, and you realize that the great portfolio of self harm scars you all used to curate are going white with age and not updated, and half your friends are a different gender now and so much happier and maybe you are too, and you know who you are, and that it’s a journey and not a revelation. it’s a direction you’re headed, and you’re enjoying the trip.
reaching your 30′s rocks. and i’m hearing good things about what comes next, too.
You ask me why I like you, and the words feel too earthbound—like cupping water in your palms and calling it the sea.
I could tell you about the way your voice feels like a lighthouse calling me home, or how your laugh cracks open my ribs, letting the wildflowers inside me bloom.
But none of it would be enough, not for this, not for you.
I like you because the world tilts in your direction, because every word you speak feels like the first page of a story I’ve always wanted to read.
And if I had no words, only silence, I’d still find a way to show you: my gaze resting, my breath steady, my being leaning toward you, always.
Late nights and Would you rathers
I love kids they’re all like.. “when i grow up i’m gonna be an astronaut and a chef and a doctor and an olympic swimmer” like that self confidence! That drive! That optimism! Where does it go
i think some of you dont like narratives or stories or characters i think you just like fanfiction tropes
this is a poem
i keep thinking about how it feels as if we have developed ourselves an obsession with "healing" these days – and a friend said something that really stuck in my head – "if you're part of a community where you're always trying to heal, then that means that you always need to be sick". like i think that we're all taking this ideal of healing too far saying that everybody needs therapy all the time and resetting your gut biome or surrounding yourself with positive energy or whatever it is that you can come up with. you're always focusing on something that is "wrong" and that needs to be eliminated, after which everything will be okay again. it all sounds like just another way of maintaining an illusion of control over your life and i don't think it's doing us any good
It could be coincidence, or destiny, or some neurological memory of an espresso cup. I choose to believe all of the above, that beautiful coincidences are part of fate, and my life has shaped my hands that have shaped the cup.
-my poem
I don't see enough people talking about what the Chemo attack on Blüdhaven must have done, as just everything was going wrong for Bruce and his boys that night.
For starters, Bruce is already fighting his dead/ressurected son who came back as a crime-lord villain who has been blowing up so, so many goons/criminals in Gotham for a while.
Then he sees Blüdhaven explode in front of his very eyes, and Jason then taunts Bruce, saying that Dick must be dead and insists on forcing Bruce to choose between killing Jason and killing the Joker not 2 minutes later. Bruce, as we all know, refuses to allow either, and stops Jason with a Batarang to the neck/shoulder, depending on your angst factor (or possibly aiming for Joker, but Joker moves and gets it to hit Jason on purpose/by accident ymmv).
(Batman 1940 #650)
And then, after all of that, the Joker sets off some explosives, surely killing Jason/the Joker (This makes the second explosion the Joker is going to no-clip his way out of, and Jason's learned that skill this time as well)
(Batman 1940 #650)
But wait! There's more! I know in the Batman comic they only mention Bruce being concerned for Dick, but Tim was living in Blüdhaven at the time too! Tim was fresh off of his father/girlfriend dying and didn't want to be adopted by Bruce, so he invented a fake Uncle Eddie (hiring an actor to play the role) and moved to Blüdhaven, where his comatose step-mother was being treated. Tim is only out of the city at the time of the explosion because the Titans came and said something was wrong with Conner, so they needed to leave to help save him. On their way out of the city in their jet, they only get far enough to avoid the blast, but not far enough that they avoid the resulting shockwaves as it renders their navigational systems offline, and likely their comms too. So not far enough that Bruce, who has been chasing Jason and Black Mask all night, could reasonably be aware of this fact.
(Robin 1993 #147)
So Dick and Tim very well could have been in that explosion and then Jason gets exploded! Amazing! That's 3 for 3 remaining Robins possibly killed in an explosion in one single hour.
We have no idea where Jason gets to, but we'll assume that he is unable to find the body because of the new no-clipping into the backrooms skill Jason must have (Jason was meant to die here, again. In another explosion set off by the Joker, so Bruce will have to assume Jason is dead even if he turns up alive later. How? Who the fuck knows).
Speaking of ol' Richard "Dick" Grayson, aka Nightwing, how is old boy wonder doing? Well, he's been having a rough go of it the past six months, between Blockbuster targeting him and destroying everything he cares about, Tarantula killing Blockbuster after successfully convincing him to just let her kill Blockbuster (while he walks away and has a panic attack...and...other things happen...TW: SA if you look it up), and then basically playing "suicide by cop" through the job following that and being a double agent of the group that just nuked Blüdhaven, uh...he is straight-up not having a good time by the time Chemo blows up Blüdhaven, and he's only getting worse. He tries to go to the center of the explosion, and Superman, fortunately, arrives on the scene to save Nightwing and put him up on the shelf to avoid dying (I love how Superman keeps trying to save Nightwing from himself in this era and Nightwing is just...no, thank you).
(Nightwing 1996 #116)
Unfortunately, this is the "Flying Grayson" himself, so no shelf is high enough to prevent Dick from going in there, and his mental state is so bad that certain death while saving others is probably more tempting to him at the moment than a deterrent. He "Duly Noted"s his way back into Blüdhaven, helps get the police to control the panicking crowds of survivors towards an escape route, saves the few remaining friends Blockbuster didn't kill recently, and goes directly into the most radioactive area of Blüdhaven to try and save some rouge who might have been there. We see Superman fighting Chemo's core in the background throughout his rescue attempts, so Dick's close the entire time to this heavy radiation. Dick notes that this is the first time he's able to breathe easy in months, saving people from the ruins. He's eventually taken out as a door explodes with the Chemo green gasses while trying to locate the rogue while reflecting on his recent failures.
(Nightwing 1996 #116)
I do think the appearance of Batman as Dick passes out isn't real, Bruce was in Gotham, either reeling from the explosion or looking for Jason or something. There's no way he got to Blüdhaven already, and the legs of Batman are hazy, blending into the smoke.
I also think after Chemo is stopped that Bruce probably still hasn't heard anything about Nightwing, because I don't imagine he took the time and resources to call the Veteran in a communications blackout (who has been historically trying to poach Batman's Robins, and nearly got Tim killed trying to convince Tim to leave Batman and join up his forces. Batman and the Veteran are not on good terms, is what I'm saying) just for Tim's step-mother and fake uncle.
(Robin 1993 #147)
By this time, he is talking about Tim as if he's alive, so he's probably gotten something from the Titans base confirming that Tim's alright, so he's gotta be taking the time and effort to call the Veteran for Dick.
Bruce, being Bruce, gets into a fight with Dick as soon as Dick is brought back to the Batcave and wakes up, while Dick is being treated for severe radiation poisoning/burns. I am willing to forgive this because he's had a time of it, even if he's being hostile and pissy and unsupportive. Definitely not winning the Father of the Year award for this, I'm afraid (Worst Father of the Year award is going to Deathstroke, for embedding a known radioactive carcingenic material into his daughter's eye, but Bruce is in the running for this and Jason).
(Nightwing 1996 #117)
I am awarding this to Bruce for trying to reassure Dick.
But. Anyway. Yeah.
Rough night for everyone involved. Absolutely everything going wrong all at once.
So I may read.
this is what it means to be human
Everything, Mary Oliver
The Breathing, Denise Levertov
A Prayer by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
The Laughing Heart by Charles Bukowski
Like a Small Café, That’s Love by Mahmoud Darwish (translated by Mohammad Shaheen)
Having a Coke with You by Frank O’Hara
Eating Together by Li-Young Lee
The Orange by Wendy Cope
The Quiet Machine, Ada Limón
To Go Mad, Paruyr Sevak
Our Beautiful Life When It’s Filled with Shrieks by Christopher Citro
Hammond B3 Organ Cistern, Gabrielle Calvocoressi
Peace XVIII, Khalil Gibran
Your Unripe Love, Paruyr Sevak (from “Anthology of Armenian poetry")
Here and Now by Peter Balakian
Ich finde dich (I find you) by Rainer Maria Rilke
The Thing Is by Ellen Bass
One Art by Elizabeth Bishop
Miss you. Would like to take a walk with you. by Gabrielle Calvocoressi
I Want to Write Something So Simply by Mary Oliver
What's Not to Love by Brendan Constantine
Where does such tenderness come from? by Marina Tsvetaeva
You Are Tired (I Think) by E. E. Cummings
Living With the News by W.S.Merwin
What the Living Do by Marie Howe