Quietly losing my mind over the fact that Elon Musk has straight up orchestrated a coup of our executive branch and like....I don't even know what, if any, system we have in place to fix this. Like... He's just taken control of the money and locked out the actual appointed officials. What the fuck.
Nazis are taking over my government, and like, not even just the Nazis we fucking elected! And I'm...making hamburgers? Because somebody has to make dinner? I just feel completely unhinged.
If you're wondering, there is plenty to be done about it, and plenty being done about it already, even if it's not happening instantly in a way you can perceive.
Reblogging because this is an excellent article that both tells you about some of what's being done and breaks it down in a way that will help you understand and think about future action. Please read!
I got my (now 18-year-old) daughter into Ao3 back in 2021. I taught her she should always comment - even if the fic looks old or abandoned or whatever. She did.
Well - she got this email this morning:
The fic was written in 2014 and essentially abandoned.
Bethy read and reviewed in 2021 (and was actually the only person who had commented at all).
Today in 2025 - the final chapter was posted by the author and this was her reply to Bethy’s comment.
———
Never question whether a fic is too old to comment on.
Here's a useless thought my head just supplied me with that I absolutely can't use.
Co-op game where if one player sees another, they die.
Both die? Just the one who does the seeing? Just the one who is seen? All players or just one crucial character? Do reflections count?
"Don't turn around. I'm right behind you. I'm going to put the mcguffin down behind you and go around the corner, I'll tell you when it's safe to turn around; let me know when you're looking away again."
...that is called a soft-lock and players hate them. that would lead to players having to kill themselves by walking into monsters or jumping off cliffs to make progress.
which has some horrific story implications so honestly that'd be kinda cool just for how mean it is. forget a rage game this has become an existential dread game.
white people please just purchase native artwork and jewelry from native people i keep seeing idiot white people be like “waaah i wish i could support native creators but its cultural appropriation” girl why would beaders sell you their earrings then. just dont get a medicine wheel or a thunderbird then like damn it is that easy
If Native folks are making it to sell to white people with the approval of their tribe, it’s not “appropriation”–its support and appreciation! So yes, buy that native-made dream catcher, but not the mass produced fakes made by white people. Like, you can go to a pow wow and buy native crafts there, too.
woodsgotweird said: man i just jumped on the bandwagon because i am a sheep. i have no idea where it came from and i ask myself this question all the time
Maybe someone made a typo and it just got out of hand?
I kinda feel like panic!at the disco started the whole exclamation point thing and then it caught on around the internet, but maybe they got it from somewhere else, IDK.
It’s a way of referring to particular variations of (usually) a character — dark!Will, junkie!Sherlock, et cetera. I have suspected for a while that it originated from some archive system that didn’t accommodate spaces in its tags, so to make common interpretations/versions of the characters searchable, people started jamming the words together with an infix.
(Lately I’ve seen people use the ! notation when the suffix isn’t the full name, but is actually the second part of a common fandom portmanteau. This bothers me a lot but it happens, so it’s worth being aware of.)
“Bang paths” (! is called a “bang"when not used for emphasis) were the first addressing scheme for email, before modern automatic routing was set up. If you wanted to write a mail to the Steve here in Engineering, you just wrote “Steve” in the to: field and the computer sent it to the local account named Steve. But if it was Steve over in the physics department you wrote it to phys!Steve; the computer sent it to the “phys” computer, which sent it in turn to the Steve account. To get Steve in the Art department over at NYU, you wrote NYU!art!Steve- your computer sends it to the NYU gateway computer sends it to the “art” computer sends it to the Steve account. Etc. (“Bang"s were just chosen because they were on the keyboard, not too visually noisy, and not used for a huge lot already).
It became pretty standard jargon, as I understand, to disambiguate when writing to other humans. First phys!Steve vs the Steve right next to you, just like you were taking to the machine, then getting looser (as jargon does) to reference, say, bearded!Steve vs bald!Steve.
So I’m guessing alternate character version tags probably came from that.
100% born of bang paths. fandom has be floating around on the internet for six seconds longer than there has been an internet so early users just used the jargon associated with the medium and since it’s a handy shorthand, we keep it.
You know how people tell you to contact them via whatever website(s) they use? Like "Connect with me on LinkedIn" or "Message me on Discord"? Anyone ever notice that when people are talking about Tumblr it's not "chat" or "message"
The DOJ argued in court that Indigenous people don't have birthright citizenship, even though they have for 100 years
So... I promised myself I was going to cut back on the politics posts, because I need to protect my mental peace. But this one...
ICE has reportedly been picking up members of the Navajo Nation, as well as members of other Native nations, in urban areas of Arizona and telling them that they do not accept either state IDs or Certificates of Indian Blood (CIBs) as proof of U.S. citizenship. ICE is detaining them as having no identifiable U.S. citizenship.
So, you know.... the actual, true native citizens of the soil we call the United States. Yeah.
Amity Parkers are Kryptonians in the same way a de-feathered chicken is a man.
Summary; Clark's pretty sure the new intern, Samantha Manson, is secretly a Kryptonian.
But this isn't about him.
This is about Sam and her new, more interesting than Danny coworker; Jimmy Olsen.
~~~~~~
It was Sam’s first day as an Intern at the Daily Planet, and she’d found someone very interesting.
"Who is...Jimmy Olsen. What is Jimmy Olsen?" Sam muttered into her recorder as she watched the man in question hang upside down from a thirteenth story window, just to take a good picture of...something. A bird or a plane or someshit.
"I hypothesize that the man is a freak," she continued, turning around and missing the bird-plane streak by in a blur of red and blue, "A level of freak I intend to meet."
~~~~~~
Jimmy had four arms now, as well as terrifying mandibles and way too many eyes.
Sam diligently took notes, making sure to translate his horrified, garbled screams as well as she could.
Unfortunately, Superman swept in and managed to nab the mad scientist and douse Jimmy in the cure at pretty much the same time.
~~~~~~
Sam was using her strength, as a human so contaminated with Ecto she was liminal, to hold Jimmy Olsen in the air by the ankle with one hand. The other hand? Was punching aliens in the face and yanking their weapons out of their hands.
Not that he was aware she was doing that, because he was so distracted with getting the perfect camera shot of the alien invaders of the week that he’d missed the one’s trying to sneak up on him.
Honestly, most of Sam’s concentration was on not squeezing her hand.
She didn’t want to break any bones, after all.
It was right as that thought passed her mind that Superman appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and scared the shit out of her, resulting in…her squeezing her hand.
Jimmy was in a cast for far longer than it took her or anyone else from Amity to recover from something as small as a broken bone.
~~~~~~
It was Tuesday, and true to form, Jimmy had been kidnapped.
Sam, as she had the past seven Tuesdays, made sure she was taken along for the ride. She’d even had to knock out the teeth of the head kidnapper to convince them that, as most people already knew, ignoring Samantha Manson was a terrible idea.
The kidnappers had let her in the van, refusing to meet her eyes. When she insisted they tie up her wrists, a few of them started crying, so she didn’t push it.
The entire drive to the typical decrepit warehouse, the kidnappers kept looking back at her and flinching.
Wussies.
But she could put up with them being babies; as long as she got to study the enigma that was Jimmy, it was fine.
What wasn’t fine was the fact that when Superman swept in to save Jimmy Olsen again, the kidnappers pointed at Sam and said she’d kidnapped them.
“I only knocked out a few teeth, so what? They’ll grow back, it’s not a big-!”
“Oh, I get it now. No. No, Miss Manson, human adult teeth don’t grow back.” Superman said gently, going from aggressively confused to pitying.
Sam broke her hand on his jaw in response; she hated people pitying her. Also, she was more than a little embarrassed that she’d forgotten non-liminal people were slightly limited in the amount of teeth they could have.
Her hand healed in the normal amount of time for a person from Amity Park; two whole days.
~~~~~~
Jimmy was looking at her over their desks, trying to be sly about it.
Sam was pretending not to notice, slowly growing more and more annoyed.
“...Is there a problem?” She finally asked, slowly looking up to meet Jimmy’s eyes.
“How did you not shatter your hand when you punched Superman? Why do you think ‘human’ teeth grow back?” Jimmy responded, almost like those questions had been waiting on the tip of his tongue for who knew how long.
“I didn’t shatter my hand because I wasn’t actually trying to hurt him, and the other one…I made a mistake.”
Jimmy hesitated, pursing his lips and seeming to take a moment to think.
“So…if you tried to punch Superman, and you meant to hurt him, do you think you actually could?”
Sam leaned back in her chair, giving the question some thought.
Superman was notorious for being weak to magic, and liminality was just another form of death magic. Granted, it was a form of death magic so strong it mutated the living, but magic was magic.
“First off, I don’t fight for a living,” Sam started, shrugging; her days as one of Team Phantom were long past. “I used to, but I don’t anymore, so I’m not as…fighty, I guess, as Superman. But I could probably give him a black eye, if he was nice enough to let the punch land after letting me wind up.”
“Oh.” Jimmy said, voice slightly higher than normal. “Well alright then.”
“Yup.”
“So where are you from again?”
“Classified.”
~~~~~~
Jimmy, true to Jimmy form, had a new…situation.
It was Friday, and apparently he was being possessed by a minor god.
A minor god that was not cooperating.
“It’s a simple series of questions, and I realy don’t know why you’re fighting me on this.” Sam groaned, valiantly resisting the urge to throw her notepad at possessed Jimmy’s head.
“Please. I just want to go back to my realm, I won’t bother people in this one anymore, I just-”
“What are you the god of? What is your name? What was the purpose of possessing Jimmy Olsen? Why did you target Jimmy Olsen?” Sam reiterated, as she had been for the past seven hours. “Is Jimmy Olsen a beacon of some sort? Is there a curse on JImmy Olsen?”
Sam paused, a new thought occurring to her with such suddenness she gasped.
“Wait, is…is this an attempt to woo Jimmy Olsen?!”
“Please. Please just let me go!”
“Just answer the questions or I start pulling fingernails!”
“If you torture me in this form, the boy will also suffer!”
“First off, he’s a grownass man. Second, he’s a freak so he’ll be fine. Probably. Fingernails grow back anyways, it’s barely a pinch for humans, it doesn't hurt at all.”
“Miss Manson, please don’t refer to Mister Olsen as a freak. Also, you’re getting confused about human limitations again.” Superman added politely, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“No, I’m not! I googled it! Human fingernails grow back!” Sam spat, shrugging out from under the Man of Steel’s grip.
“Ma’am, your misjudging human limitations concerning pain.” Superman explained, strained but patient.
Sam paused.
Sam took a moment to remember two days ago, when Perry bumped his foot into one of the desks and spent a whole hour cursing.
All that just for a broken pinky toe.
“...Fine. You…might have a point.”
~~~~~~
The GIW sat across from Sam in a meeting room at the Daily Planet.
Apparently, dodging her court-mandated meeting with them by not going to her apartment just meant they’d turn up at her place of work.
Charming.
“And you’ve intruded on my basic rights because…?” Sam started the meeting, unimpressed.
“We have been trying to reach you for mandatory debrief for the past three months, Miss Manson. You know why.” Agent Tweedledee said, deadpan.
“Ugh. No, I haven’t told anyone where I’m from. No, I haven’t used my powers in front of anyone. No, I haven’t broken any of your stupid, nonsensical rules.” Sam droned, tallying each point with a finger.
“Interesting. Our sources say they caught you…holding a grown man upside down with one hand.” Agent Tweedledee countered, also looking as bored as Sam felt.
Sam said nothing, continuing to stare at the agents.
“After which you crushed his ankle,” Agent Tweedledum added, pushing a folder with Jimmy Olsen’s X-Rays towards her.
“I don’t think you having these X-Rays is HIPAA compliant,” Sam said, pushing them back.
“I don’t think you understand how big of a security risk having you, any of you, blending in with normal humans is,” Agent Tweedledum said, pushing them right back at her. “And if this is how you’re going to try to ‘blend in’, then maybe we need to pull this initiative back. What’s next, casually flying to reach something on a tall shelf?”
“Indeed,” Agent Tweedledee said, leaning forward to get in Sam’s face. “Perhaps it would be better if the lockdown was re-initiated. An entire town of people like you…it’s too dangerous to just let you wander-”
“Excuse me!” Clark Kent said, popping his head into the meeting room. Sam took a brief moment to clock that his eyes were glowing a little reddish, but otherwise he seemed normal.
Stressed, but normal.
“You are intruding-”
“I was just wondering if you had a warrant?” Kent cut in, blinking his eyes and readjusting his glasses. When he was done, the red had faded.
The agents paused, looking at each other.
“We don’t need one.” Agent Tweedledee said, deftly sweeping the folder full of X-Rays closed.
“Actually, you do,” an entirely new voice joined the fray, and some man who reeked of money walked in. He was wearing a stupidly expensive suit, and looked incredibly windswept for some reason.
Sam hated him on principle.
The Agents also seemed to hate him on principle, if how they started packing up was any indication.
“Hello, my name is Bruce Wayne, and I own the Daily Planet,” Bruce Wayne said, all fake smiles and fake cheer. “That makes this private property.”
“We have a government ordinance-”
“My private property,” Bruce Wayne interrupted, stopped a mere few inches away from the now standing Agent Tweedledee. “You don’t have a warrant. Get out.”
Sam stayed seated, eyeing the proceedings.
Contrary to what she expected though, instead of pulling out guns and threatening people, the Agents just walked around Bruce Wayne and started for the door.
“If Miss Manson goes missing?” She heard Clark Kent mutter to them as they passed, “We will post her name everywhere we can, as well as pictures of your faces.”
“What pictures?” Agent Tweedledum asked, right before a camera flash blinded the man.
“These pictures. Leave Miss Manson alone!” Jimmy spat, darting out of reach.
Past him, the entire office was full of silent reporters, standing and watching the agents.
“If they ever contact you again, or violate your rights again, call me,” Bruce Wayne muttered, handing her a card.
~~~~~~
Jimmy had become telekinetic. Somehow.
They’d been interviewing some scientist new to Metropolis, Sam had turned her back on him for all of four minutes, and when she turned around he was two feet off the ground, surrounded by random objects.
Honestly she hadn’t even been aware there’d been anything that could mess with humans in the lab, so she had no idea what he’d touched.
The scientist was rambling about how his invention worked, and that all he would need to do was initiate Jimmy’s ‘inner power’ to create a bomb so destructive even Superman couldn’t stop it.
Which proved her initial suspicions that he was an evil scientist, and surprised her not at all.
Sam calmly reached out and grabbed the scientist by the throat, cutting off his air supply.
“Shhh. Shut up. No more words from you. Jimmy, I have some questions, please cooperate.”
Superman didn’t even take four minutes to show up for that one.
Apparently, Superman gave Jimmy a button for when Sam ‘forgot how human limitations worked’.
She was confused, as she hadn’t even touched Jimmy, but then Superman had gently pried her fingers off of the mad scientist's neck. Who was unconscious.
Oh.
Right.
Humans, ones that weren’t tainted with Ecto, couldn’t go that long without oxygen.
~~~~~~
“It was self defense, I swear!” Sam shouted into the phone, running through the streets.
“What was self defense?!” Bruce Wayne shouted back, noises from his side of the call indicating he was scrambling for something.
“They had cuffs and a gun! I grabbed a thing and stabbed one of them with it and probably broke the other one!” Sam took a turn, dodging into an alleyway to buy more time as she outran the GIW unit trying to chase her down.
“Broke the other one’s what?!”
“I don’t know! It made a crunching sound and he started throwing up!”
“Miss Manson, there’s no way I can get there on time. Can you shout for Superman?”
“I tried, he isn’t here or someth-” Sam was cut off as a hand shot out from one of the doorways and yanked her inside.
Or, they tried to.
Sam snarled, turning and raising her fist…only to be met with the face of Jimmy Olsen.
“In here! Quickly!” He whispered, tugging at her arm again.
Sam jumped to follow, the door shutting behind her with a soundless click.
Four minutes later, a stampede of footsteps went past, not even slowing down to consider the door.
Panting, she took a moment to look around.
It was…the weirdest basement she’d ever seen. There were broken cameras hanging from the ceiling, rows of film cartridges lining metal shelves, and a glowing lock on the door she’d just been dragged through.
Most concerning was the Ghostspeak written on the glowing lock. Sure, it was in a weird dialect, but she’d recognize it anywhere.
“...Jimmy, tell me honestly. Are you in a cult?” Sam asked, still catching her breath.
“No? This is just one of my safespots. Superman helped me outfit it, because I…uh…”
“Get kidnapped or targeted at least three times a month. Understandable.” Sam finally noticed the shouting coming from her phone and put it up to her ear. “I’m fine; Jimmy has a safehouse or something, and apparently they can’t track me while I’m in it.”
“My lawyers are already on their way to the Daily Planet. Stay where you are, we’ll sort this out.”
~~~~~~
Bruce Wayne’s lawyers were, evidently, terrifyingly competent.
Sam Manson and all Amity Parkers who were allowed to leave for the experimental integration process no longer had to debrief.
They got social workers. They had rights. They were put into contact with the Office for Extraterrestrial Immigration.
The GIW backed off.
From what Tucker told her, still tucked away in Amity, the choices the GIW had were to either concede to those stipulations, or reveal the existence of Amity and its people.
Granted, Tucker had already spread the news that Amity Parkers were guaranteed rights outside of Amity, and that the GIW couldn't legally do anything about it. There were already people planning to escape.
Tucker, in fact, wanted to know if Sam could use a couple of roommates.
~~~~~~
“This is a ‘fork’; it is a utensil used for foods that are not liquid.” Clark Kent said seriously, half leaned over his desk and slowly showing off a plastic fork.
Sam stared at the fork, unimpressed.
“And this? This is an ‘elbow’. On humans, they’re only supposed to bend like this,” the man said, using his own elbow as an example. “They don’t bend any other way. Please. Please remember that.”
Sam raised an eyebrow.
“‘Eyes’ are very important to humans, and they do not grow back or heal very well when impaled.”
Sam was officially bored.
“Now, ‘forks’ are not supposed to go into ‘eyes’,” Clark advised, holding the fork exaggeratedly far away from his face.
Lois, walking by, rolled her eyes.
“Gods forbid women do anything,” she muttered.
~~~~~~
“<<Woah. And you’re sure he’s not one of us?>>” Tucker asked, flipping through Sam’s ‘Jimmy Notepad’. They were taking a break from moving in, and Sam was excited to show them her Jimmy Notes.
“<<Completely.>>”
“<<Nah, he’s gotta at least be like Wes,>>” Danny disagreed, reaching out to go back a few pages and fully placing his weight against Tucker.
“<<Nope, his bones heal super slow and he can’t even regrow any teeth. Superman said so.>>”
“<<Bullshit! Look here, he clearly shapeshifted! Normal humans can’t do that!>>” Tucker said, jabbing his finger into her notebook with enough force that he almost poked a hole in it.
“<<Hey! Don’t ruin my stuff!>>”
“<<Guys c’mon, the buildings here are super delicate, we shouldn’t fight!>>”
“<<Foods here!>>” Clark Kent interrupted, sticking his head in the living room.
Sam, Danny, and Tucker all turned as one to head for the kitchen.
“<<...Wait, he wasn’t speaking English.>>” Danny muttered, pausing.
“<<I mean, neither were we?>>” Tucker asked, shrugging.
“<<Jimmy! Did you pick up my eggplant sandwich?>>” Sam shouted, shoving past her boys and into the kitchen.
Jimmy froze like a deer in headlights.
“Uh. I don’t know what you just…?”
“She’s asking if you remembered to pick up her eggplant sandwich,” Clark’s son, Jon, said as he dug through one of the bags.
“Oh! Yeah, of course.”
Sam decided that the Kents being able to speak Ghostspeak wasn’t really any of her business.
After all, Jimmy Olsen was far more interesting to study than them.
~~~~~~
“It’s Tuesday.” Sam grumbled, her foot tapping on the ground.
“Yes, it is.” Jimmy agreed, not seeming to pay attention.
“Where are they?” Sam asked, looking for the kidnappers that were supposed to show up.
“The numbers of attempted kidnappings have gone down because any group that would try is…well, they’re terrified of you.” Jimmy said, deliberately looking anywhere but at Sam.
Sam nodded, taking out her Jimmy Notepad.
His odd powers of luck seemed to be easily circumvented by just a few threats to outside sources. Interesting. So if she left, would his weird luck powers kick in again?
“I’m gonna leave for a few hours.” Sam said, standing up.
“It’s crunch time, Perry would kill you, and also that won’t work.” Jimmy droned, starting to sound bored.
“...Hey Jimmy, if I give you twenty bucks, would you go take pictures of a weird cult I heard about?”
“Miss Manson, no!” Clark Kent shouted from the other side of the newsroom. “I don’t know what you’re trying to convince Jimmy to do, but stop!”
~~~~~~
“I wanna fight Superman,” Danny said, staring up at the man in question as he fought off yet another super-powered bad guy.
“Please don’t do that while you’re holding onto me,” Jimmy asked politely, still taking pictures of the fight as Danny held him off the edge of a building.
“I’m Jimmy’s coworker,” Sam hissed, glaring at Danny. She was the one who helped Jimmy get into weird and concerning places for good photos, not Danny!
Danny smiled smugly at her, not putting the wayward photographer down at all.
“Yeah, but you broke both your arms blocking a punch, so nyeh.”
“They aren’t even compound fractures! The bones are still in place, they’ll heal in a couple of hours!”
“It hasn’t been a couple of hours though?” Tucker asked, briefly looking up from his phone.
Sam kicked him.
He kicked her back.
Neither noticed when Jimmy’s photos went from taking pictures of Superman’s fight to taking photos of their play fight.
~~~~~~
“Sam. Hey. Sam.”
Sam groaned and tilted her head back.
“What?”
“I don’t know what you are but…you can just break out of here, right?” Jimmy whispered, keeping himself between her and Lois, and the Big Bad Evil Guys of the month.
“I’m human, though?”
“I doubt that, though?”
“You’re so rude.”
“I’m so sorry that my concern for you is making me more to the point.”
Sam tried to make a comeback, but the low, pulsing green light of those stupid rocks seemed to magnify her headache. Those rocks sounded like millions of people screaming, and the emotional drain connected to them was really messing with her.
It took all of her concentration not to throw up, let alone get into a pseudo-argument with Jimmy.
“Whatever. What is that glowing green shit they have?”
“...It’s…it’s kryptonite. Uh…Sam? Hey, quick question, but are you…?”
“Not now Jimmy, I have a migraine bad enough to warrant murder.”
“I think we’re gonna have to figure this one out without Sam, Jimmy,” Lois muttered, already halfway out of her restraints.
“But she’s gonna be okay, right?” Jimmy whispered, tense against Sam’s back.
“She’ll be fine the faster we can get the Kryptonite away. Now, Jimmy, move!”
~~~~~~
“How long was she exposed?” A voice asked, adding to Sam’s headache.
“An hour? Maybe two?” Jimmy’s voice said, winded.
“Her color already looks better, Kal. I think she just needs to sleep it off.” Lois voice added, accompanied by someone brushing her hair out of her face.
“We need to keep an eye on-”
Sam interrupted Superman by throwing up on him.
He’d spoken long enough, anyways. It was time for blessed silence.
~~~~~~
Sam woke up in her own bed, with a very excited Danny barely able to contain himself next to her.
Apparently, Superman had shown up to drop her off, and Danny had misunderstood the situation.
Danny had actually gotten to fight Superman.
And even though Danny tried to downplay certain crucial parts of it, Tucker filled in what he was cutting out; Danny had gotten his ass handed to him.
Not before he’d broken the Man of Steel’s nose, though.
Which the halfa was very proud of.
“Kinda gross that he was covered in throw-up, though,” Danny conceded after a few hours, nose wrinkled. “Oh yeah; your Jimmy is in the living room, asleep.”
“On the couch, right?” Sam asked, still annoyed by remnants of her headache.
“...I mean. I was using the couch, so…” Tucker muttered, defensive.
“You didn’t make the squishy, normal human with normal human bones and normal human joints sleep on the floor, right?”
Danny coughed slightly, standing up.
“I’ll go put him on the couch.”
“Daniel James Fenton you better be careful, he’s delicate!”
~~~~~~
Sam was forced to take that back when she went over the security footage Tucker had gathered.
Jimmy Olsen had carried her through an enemy compound on his back, gotten into multiple fights at a clear disadvantage, and even made various pit stops to check Sam’s pulse and breathing.
With a deep sigh, she pulled out her Jimmy Notepad again.
“Why does he always disprove my theories and then add just as many new ones?”
~~~~~~
Jimmy was speaking the most mangled form of ghostspeak Sam had ever heard in her life.
“...You want to lick all the blue pebbles?” Sam translated for him into English.
Jimmy groaned, burying his face in his hands.
“Nevermind. I’m just…really bad at learning new languages.” He sighed, shoulders slumped in defeat. “Superman really tried to teach me but…”
“What were you trying to say?”
“...’What kind of coffee do you want?’.”
"<<What kind of coffee do you want?>> is how you're supposed to pronounce that."
Jimmy tried to repeat it. Tried.
What came out was…well.
Sam felt her jaw drop along with the papers she was holding, rage building at the insult that just left Jimmy’s mouth.
Across the room, Clark Kent broke into a coughing fit so bad he was almost gagging.
“I messed it up again, didn’t I?”
“I think you should go get coffee. Away from me. For about an hour or two.”
“What did I say?!”
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