This is my list of top 10 Batgirl (2000) moments!! There were so many to choose from, but these are my personal favs :)). Counting down from 10 to my absolute favourite.
10. Volving
An absolute classic. Perfectly encapsulates what Cass does throughout the entire run, and more writers should play with Cass' use of language like this!
9. Beat Up Every Mob In Gotham
Perfect encapsulation of the early Barbara-Cass dynamic, and one of the funniest moments in the series. Just love the expressions and the way this shows so much of Cass' character.
8. Choosing to Write
The entirety of issue #2 builds up to this heart-wrenching moment. After delivering a dead man's final message to his wife, Cass sees the wife's reaction to the written message and decides to learn to write. A foundational moment for her character, and a nice motherly Babs scene too.
7. Alpha Redemption
Capping off issues 35 + 36, Batgirl unmasks herself to convince Alpha (an amnesiac villain) that he doesn't have to be defined by his past. Brilliantly displays her core belief that people can change, and the fact that her belief pays off makes this moment extremely moving.
6. For God's Sake
Possibly a controversial pick, but I really like this moment because it underscores some of the fundamental conflict between Babs and Cass. They love each other, but they don't always understand each other, particularly in regards to each other's disabilities. A painful moment that should have been explored more.
5. Fight For Your Life
My favourite Stephanie and Cass moment in this run. You can feel Cass' grief throughout this hallucination, but there's also so much hope and love (for Stephanie and for herself). It's an amazing conclusion to Cass' initial suicidal tendencies: instead of desiring death, she now actively fights to live.
4. Darknight Detectives
This interaction sums up a lot of Bruce and Cass' best moments. Cass' unwavering moral beliefs, Bruce's pride, their instinctive understanding of each other; they just get each other in a way few others do. I picked this one instead of the 'instinct/good answer' moment because it also marks Cass' development in her detective ability. From Moment 8 above to here, the confidence in her mental capacities has grown so much. She really volved!
3. Perfect For A Year
I mean of course this had to be here. These lines literally take up 90% of my brain space, it's an incredibly tense moment that illustrates Cass' desire to be perfect, her need to be useful and good. This issue is also just awesome.
2. You're... Not
Another absolute classic. Illustrates Cass' compassion and her belief that people aren't defined by their lineage, which is particularly personal to her, given her own dad. This struggle between good/bad, parent/child defines many of Cass' best stories.
1. Who Do You Think You Are? + Father's Day
What else would number 1 be?? Issue 33 is my favourite in the entire run, and the entire thing is stacked with moments that could fill up this list. I just love 'who do you think you are' because it's all of Cass' rage spilling out, and yet she still loves David Cain in her own complicated way (and he reciprocates, too). Then we have the ending, which is the BEST Bruce and Cass moment ever. The sparse, meaningful dialogue, the expressions, the reveal of the TITLE: comic book writing at its finest.
Honorary mention to the Shiva/Cass fight, which just narrowly missed out.
(The best of this post and its reblogs, but with links that work)
Here is a website where you can scroll down to all the different levels of the ocean
Here is a website where you can see the future of the universe
Here is a website where you can press a ‘make everything okay’ button, over and over, until things really are okay
Here is a website that you can read if you feel like a burden
Here is a website where you can look at strobe illusions (TW strobe/flashing)
Here is a website where you can cut stuff up (TW blood/sh)
Here and here are websites where you can play with sand
Here is a website where you can draw with macaroni and other fun foods
Here is a website where you can paint someone’s nails
Here is a website where you can grow a garden with emojis
Here is a website with hundreds of videos of people hugging you (rightfully dubbed ‘the nicest place on the internet’ because it really is, y’all, it made me cry)
Here is a website that will take you to other useless websites
Here is a website where you can make a tiny cat play bongo drums (and other instruments!)
Here is a website to help give you gentle reminders <3
Here is a website where you can grow a tiny farm
Here is a website where you can take a bunch of scientific personality tests
yeah reblogging especially for my transmasc fellows who (like me) might be real uncomfortable with their chests and not know what to watch out for because we try to avoid this kind of thing (just me? okay)
hay guys! where Tim Drake and Red Robin (ur bodyguard for the time being) smell suspiciously the same— it’s like you can’t even tell the difference! no angst, this took me so long oh my goodness i’m gonna stick to writing what i know. stay tuned for hurt/angst i have a lot of grievances to spit out! not proofread.
—
Gotham was the last place you’d expected to be sent off to, but it’s where you found yourself now. Despite being disgustingly crime ridden, it was the center of trade, commerce, business, and more importantly— information. Which is precisely what you’d been sent to offer.
Your family’s company recently made a ground breaking discovery in pharmaceuticals, creating a drug that could limit the spread of cancer cells without traditional side effects; YB-V they called it. However, the by-product of production was much more severe, resulting in a chemical compound capable of mutating all the cells in a person completely to become something other as if they belonged to a different entity. Given the right motivations and means, the cells could be manipulated by a third party, turning them into fully conscious puppets of some sort.
With data leaks and security concerns, and the serious nature of the consequences if your drug had fallen into the wrong hands, you were sent to deliver the research and development to the production team personally; placed in charge of overseeing production until launch.
Which all sounded good in theory, but as you found yourself twiddling your thumbs in a blacked out office space, getting briefed on the gravity of the situation by a police task force with some vigilante character hanging around behind you, you began to question what it was all worth.
“So let me get this straight, an email between Wayne Corp and ourselves was leaked and now a couple big shot villains want to steal it? What kind of bad guy reads emails?”
A burly officer with a thick white mustache and a pair of square set glasses cleared his throat awkwardly, “That’s correct.”
“Some tech team,” you scoffed. “I’m the only one that can access any of the files, it’s all biometrically locked. While this certainly puts a damper on my day, we should be able to proceed normally.”
“They have your identity too,” the figure in the back voiced. Red Robin, you’d been informed, one of Gotham’s crime fighters in spandex (allegedly.) Up until now he hadn’t spoken a word, loitering while the police explained everything to you.
“Which is why we brought you here,” the commissioner pipped, reaching for his coffee mug as he spoke. “Red Robin has agreed to watch over your activities for the duration of your time in Gotham. For your safety, and ours.”
Have this guy tail you? As if. You were occupied enough without having a stranger watch your every move. A vigilante at that, it’s not like you could look at his resume and review his history.
“While that is a gracious offer, I have my own bodyguards. They’re well trained and—“
“Not for Gotham, you don’t.” Red Robin stepped out from the corner he’d situated himself in, arms crossed and a frown plastered on his face. “And unless you want to stay in a bunker for three months, I’m your best bet.”
Silence fell as you stared at the masked man, contemplating your options. The underground bunker was out of the question. On top of running production, you had a company to run and a reputation to upkeep; meetings, galas, charity events to attend. And as much as you hated to admit it, they had to be right. Gotham knows Gotham, and with the crises you’d witnessed on screen it was clear their criminals were on a polarly different level.
Pressing your hands to the table, you stood up and turned around, “I see. And you being around won’t make me more of a target?”
“Not even you would know I’m there.”
Closing the distance between the two of you in a few paces, you stuck your hand out to him, “In that case, I look forward to working with you Red Robin.”
Standing near him, the faint smell of lavender was imminent and something deeper lingered under it, an amber of some sort. It was pleasant; Red Robin had good taste in cologne. And that is all you needed to trust him.
It took a second for him to shake your outstretched hand. In your palm, his grip was firm, rough gloves pressing into your satin skin. Secure, you’d decided, secure and reliable.
And just as he’d promised, you hardly noticed him. On the contrary, you were also never attacked; not in the days following the abrupt meeting, nor the week after that, nor the month after that. There was the occasional mention of trouble, or something that went bump in the night— but whether it concerned you or not it didn’t matter. Nothing ever happened.
When he was tucked away it felt like he was really gone, not even the eerie feeling that followed being watched lingered. The only thing that drew you back into the reality was when you’d catch the scent of lavender lingering or in the few cases where he’d appear before you. In his absence you felt almost lonely, despite your work occupying it all. So you soon found yourself leaving notes.
“Bought coffee for the office.”
And he began to write back.
“Just black next time, thanks.”
…
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Cornflower blue.”
“That’s a dumb name. Your costume is red, I think you got out branded by Nightwing.”
“In my defense, I didn’t design it.”
…
He didn’t say much in them, nothing that you could glean in depth anyway. But you found yourself oddly pleased with his nothing. It’s not like you cared so desperately for his identity, that was his to keep of course. You did care for his presence. Something about it was magnetizing, and because he hardly appeared before you, these were the tidbits you found yourself drawn to.
Not that you’d kept them, he would see. Despite knowing the situation you were in, it still felt like a strange game— where he knew every detail about you, and you knew nothing of him. Your feelings, at the least, these you could keep on your own.
“Do you need lab access? I know you follow me in, but if there’s an emergency or something…” Production and distribution for YB-V was run by Wayne Corp and like all things related to your project it was kept secure in an underground bunker while you worked to transfer the information your company developed.
While the scientists and developers were mainly in charge of carrying out the project, none of it could move forward without you. The security system had been meticulously set up so that you, and only you, could access the files with the research and instructions. And beyond even your capabilities, every stage written into the plan had to be completed before the next could be unlocked. So you had to be there, supervise and guide them during the entirety of the process.
Archaic, you’d decided. But necessary according to the rest of the world.
Red Robin accompanied you on these trips. Being underground and all, it was one of the few moments he went with you rather than watching from afar.
“No, I’ll find a way in if I need a way in.”
You looked back at him questioningly. You didn’t doubt his capabilities of course, but he said it with such ease, “Is it that easy to break into? I should increase security.”
He scoffed, crossing his arms. “It’s secure. I’m the issue.”
You turned back around shaking your head with a snort. He was growing on you, sass and all. Stopping by a display of notes and charts, you looked them over to ensure they aligned with protocol.
“I have to attend a gala next week, by the way.”
He hummed in response, a couple steps behind you like he usually was when you visited the lab.
“It’s at Wayne Manor… and I can get you an invite. Security is stricter than it is here, I’ve been told. It’d be troublesome to sneak around.” Ruffling through the papers, you extracted the one you needed, holding it up to your face.
“And I don’t have a date,” you added.
“…are you asking me out?” You could hear a hint of a smile in his voice, making your face burn red at the accusation.
You set the paper down, abruptly whipping around with the most serious expression you could muster, “Strictly for my safety! I don’t know how credible everyone attending is and—“
The smile on his face shut you up. Embarrassed and slightly dejected you looked around the room for something else to lock eyes on, clearing your throat.
“I would’ve loved to, but I won’t be there. Something came up that I need to take care of. But like you said, security is strict, you’ll be safe,” he interjected before you could say anymore. Honestly you couldn’t even be mad, he let you down so sincerely you had to believe it. The small smile plastered on his face and the gentle tone he used in opposition to his usual curt one melted you down far more than you would’ve liked it to.
“Right.” It took you a second to cough anything out, like you were thirteen and starstruck again by any character that tossed you a bone, “so much for you or the bunker, I could’ve hired the Waynes’ security.”
But you were disappointed, and his answer did surprise you. Busy? He hadn’t left your side your entire stay as far as you were aware, granted you couldn’t see him 95% of the time, but in principle.
He must’ve picked up on your downtrodden state because he leaned in teasingly, that familiar lavender scent washing over you, “You have your own bodyguards though, right? They’re well trained.”
You wondered what color his eyes were behind the mask, a warm brown or a melancholy blue. Either way you’d decided you were done for, his were the type of eyes you could drown in; “Not for Gotham, I don’t.”
The night of the gala you didn’t expect much. You were supposed to represent your company of course, as their Gotham socialite, and you were to meet with your business partner. Up until now everything had been transactional, taken care of on invisible ends. Which was fine, but to maintain business relations you had to show up to these things.
And so it was about as dry as you’d thought it to be. Most of everyone was twice your age, many were so stuck in their desire for affluence it radiated off of them like maggots in a burn pile. Supposedly it was a charity gala, in reality it was an egoistic echo chamber and you were in no position to defy it.
Flitting around you sipped your champagne and made conversation and promises that didn’t matter until a hand graced your shoulder with the lightest touch, it felt almost invisible. Turning around you saw a boy with raven hair and the tamest of blue eyes. And he looked to be around your age, a moment of respite at last.
“Hi,” he breathed the word into a smile that was dazzlingly honest and strikingly warm in juxtaposition with the mood of the room.
“Hi,” you shook the hand he offered to you. His hands were rougher than you’d imagine an aristocrat’s to be, littered with callouses you attributed with a dedication to some sport, “I’m Y/N, I don’t think we’ve met before?”
“Sort of, I’m Tim.” In your correspondence with Wayne Corp, Tim had been your main contact; at least for big ticket decisions. In other words, he was your collaborator and your business’ partner. In your head you recalled all the times you poked fun at the archaic way he wrote his emails, like he was 52 and balding— in reality he was just the opposite.
“Oh! It’s nice to finally meet you! Thank you for working with us, we couldn’t have progressed this far without Wayne Corp.”
“On the contrary, thank you for trusting us. This project’s been a huge safety concern for you I’ve heard.”
You laughed, shaking your head, “Not at all! I have one of the best vigilantes in the city.” But this, he should’ve already known. Red Robin had to be cleared for access to certain things, and you’d corresponded as much through your emails. “I must say though, I was disappointed it wasn’t Nightwing at first, he used to be my favorite.”
Tim blinked at you for a spell and you couldn’t read his expression. Pleasant and cordial with some twinge of underlying distaste was the best way to describe it, something in the way his eyes glinted with a malice behind his smile. “Has that changed?”
He must love Red Robin.
“I suppose,” growing on you was an understatement. It was a strange ordeal because he wasn’t real. No name or title you could address, but everything you learned about Red Robin made you want to know more about Red Robin. He was magnetizing. “Have you met them? Is it a normal Gotham thing?”
“No,”his response came swiftly, “they’re usually in other parts of the city and I’m never out at night. Married to the office.”
“I see.” That would explain the emails.
“Do you… want to dance?” He extended his hand to you graciously, but with a gentle hesitance that made him seem softer than he was. In a way you felt like you were betraying your vigilante delusionship, but he hadn’t agreed to go with you and Tim was charming enough. Besides, business relations.
“Of course.” Placing your flute of champagne on a nearby table, you took his arm as he led you to the floor. He smiled in a demure sort of way that made your heart flutter like the excitement you’d felt interacting with Red Robin. Maybe you just liked the attention that much, that must be the correlation between the two.
“Do you know how to waltz?” Typically galas didn’t have much dancing at all, let alone organized ballroom dancing, but leave it to the Waynes to find a way to stun the crowd with their class and extravagance.
“Sort of, I’ve taken rudimentary classes.” Like when you were five.
“Perfect,” he grinned. He placed his hand faintly on the small of your waist while the other found purchase in your opposing palm, “I’ll lead. Just follow along, you’ll be fine.”
Miraculously you were fine. You started out with your eyes glued to the floor, following after him and avoiding his toes. But once you’d gotten into a rhythm, it all felt like floating.
“You haven’t stepped on my toes once,” he joked. Up close and under the mesmerizing ballroom light he looked angelic, the way the light caught in his lashes and the reflected off the blue of his eyes—like little golden flecks glimmering under supple flowing rivers.
“I’ve been trying not to!” you laughed.
“You look beautiful,” as if his eyes could get any more mesmerizing, they softened somehow with his words, “outfit and all.”
“Thank you,” at this you averted your gaze, and prayed the lighting didn’t highlight the flush of your cheeks. Out of being flustered or embarrassment, you didn’t know. On the one hand, a rich, beautiful, respectful man was complimenting you. On the other, you were wearing cornflower blue because it was someone else’s favorite color. Like you were twelve again and going to some middle school dance where you wanted to impress your hallway crush.
“Your Getty pictures don’t do you justice,” he continued. “Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t seen one bad photo, but you always look so serious and intimidating.”
It never occurred to you he’d Googled you before, it made sense now how he was able to single you out in the crowd. Maybe the thought was so foreign because you’d never paid him any mind, but now you were thinking you should’ve. At the very least because it’s polite and helpful to know the bare minimum, but if you were honest with yourself it’s because he struck a curiosity in you that needed to be sated—too breathtaking to be real and all you’d known was his face and arresting demeanor.
“Because I am serious and intimidating, I’m very good at my job you know. You’re not the only one married to an office,” you boasted. In reality you hated work, but worse still was posing for pictures. Especially at crowded social functions your parents ushered you to where you didn’t know a soul, you simply didn’t know what to do with yourself in front of a camera—that was your excuse anyway.
“That explains the dancing,” he quipped with a sideward smile.
Your eyes widened slightly in shock as your mouth fell open to scoff. “Hey! I thought I was doing pretty good!”
He burst into a contagious laughter that hypnotically made you follow suit. But you wouldn’t settle for that after all your efforts to keep up. With a look to the wayside, you pretended to lose touch of the tandem between your steps and lurch forward, consequently stepping on his polished brown loafers. And then it was his turn to be shocked.
“Woah! So much for trying,”Tim teased. Not that he lost his footing, he was as stable as ever. In his eyes you swore there was a glint of mockery, as if he knew and anticipated it.
“Oh did I hurt you,” you feigned concern before slipping into the most innocent smile you could muster. “I’m a terrible dancer, I can’t help it.”
“Aren’t you petty?”
“You have no idea.”
“Petty and pretty, how dangerous.”
Before you could fire some witty retort you noticed your steps slowing to a halt with the swoon of the music. He’d brought his hand above you to spin you once, slowly. The other on your waist moved to your lower back to support you as he pulled you into a dip and all you could do was follow. Something about the atmosphere had your heart palpitating. Or maybe it was the way he was looking at you, like you were an art piece on display, overhead light illuminating behind him as he stared down at you like an angel emerging from the heavens.
Sundering you to the earth, you couldn’t fixate your eyes on anything else, and though it was only for a moment it felt like eternity. You were close enough now for the scent of his cologne to waft over you faintly amongst the throng of strongly powdered people in the room. Lavender. A familiar lavender with all the base notes that’d been lingering around you for the past few weeks. Your look of awe faded to confusion.
Red Robin’s.
“Is that—“
But he wasn’t looking at you. Instead you followed his gaze down to your chest, eyes widening as you saw the little red laser mark hovering over your heart. Before you could react, you felt the air get knocked out of your lungs as Tim shoved you away. The sound of the gun firing pierced cleanly through the noise of the glitz and glamour, and something burned across the skin of the side of your arm.
You couldn’t tell if it was broken glass that cut you or something else, you couldn’t feel much of anything with the adrenaline flooding your body. Scared and discombobulated, you scrambled backwards as panic set into the crowd.
In the midst of the onset of gunshots and people scattering towards exits, Tim had rushed over to you. Kneeling beside you, he gave you a quick look over and gently pulled you up by your uninjured arm. As soon as you were up he rushedly dragged you away from it all, winding through the hallways of the manor wordlessly. Though it was probably for the better, because you didn’t have an ounce of air left in your lungs trying to keep up with his pace or a thought in your head after what you’d just witnessed.
The further you trudged along, the heavier your limbs felt and the harder it was to pry your eyes open after blinking. Which was strange, you hadn’t lost so much blood, but it must’ve been the confusion of it all or something you ate. A couple halls and turns later you arrived at a room. He ushered you inside, seating you on the bed before rummaging through the drawers.
“Are you alright? Does it hurt badly?” from the drawer he procured a bandage. He sat himself next to you, promptly wrapping the cloth tightly around your arm.
“No, it’s not bad,” truthfully it felt numb, which you couldn’t decide was a good or bad thing. You couldn’t think much of anything, focused on keeping your eyes from fluttering shut.
“I should’ve known they’d do something,” he’d muttered. As he finished, pushing himself off the bed, your head suddenly felt too heavy to hold up and your eyes too tired to function.
“Hey… are you okay? You don’t look so good.” He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, feeling nothing abnormal and deepening his concern. But you couldn’t process what he was saying. With a lilt, you fell to your side, feeling the injunctive relief of not having to hold yourself upright.
He undid your bandages to look at the wound again before scowling as it dawned on him, “Tranquilizers.”
After rewrapping your arm, he hurriedly stalked towards the door, “You’ll be safe here, I’ll send someone.”
With whatever consciousness you had left you managed to slur a sentence, “Where are you going?”
“To find my brother.”
If he said anything after you didn’t hear it, because the moment your eyes fluttered shut, they stayed shut.
You didn’t know how long you were out. Not terribly so. When you’d awoken, it was still dark out. Tim must’ve flicked the light off when he’d left too, the only light that flooded in was from the streetlamp out the window. The drugs hadn’t cleared your system yet if the pounding in your head and brain fog you were experiencing was any indicator. And they didn’t even hit you directly, who knows where you’d be if they did.
In the streets you could hear the panic of people and the wail of police sirens, which would’ve settled your stomach if not for the fact that it clearly wasn’t over and the police weren’t entering.
You jerked your head towards the door as a loud thud sounded just outside of it. Looking around the room for a place to hide, there was none. And if there was one, you couldn’t see it with the lights out. Some commotion followed before what sounded like a body hit the floor.
Not knowing what else to do, you wrapped yourself in the bedding, pulling it to the floor behind the bed and huddling there. At the very least, no one knew you were in there but Tim, and surely he’d locked the door.
Nope.
The sound of the knob turning made your blood run cold. You drew the blankets tightly around yourself, hoping you’d amalgamate into the cloths if you’d clutched them tightly enough.
With the bed obscuring your view, you couldn’t see the perpetrator and you didn’t want to. You screwed your eyes shut as footsteps creaked on the wood pacing towards you. Against your will, you hands couldn’t cease trembling and you wondered if the other person in the room could hear your heart beating out of your chest.
This was it. If someone wanted to swoop in, now would be great.
The footsteps halted on the opposite side of the bed. You considered jumping out at them, throwing the blanket and bolting for it, but your limbs felt like they were filled with lead. And in any case, if they were armed you were done for anyway. So you held your breath and willed them away instead.
To your horror they’d started again in your direction. Silence. And then a hand touched the blanket and you couldn’t help it, you shrieked and covered your head with your arms.
But instead of force or a bludgeoning, they’d knelt in front of you, gently grabbing your arms as you thrashed. A familiar voice called your name out a couple times before you recognized it and opened your eyes.
“Hey, hey, hey, it’s me! You’re okay,” in the dark you couldn’t really see his face but it was Tim’s voice that called to you. Delirious and reeling, the relief flooded your body so intensely, the tears didn’t even have time to well before they were streaming down your cheeks.
Throwing your arms around him, you sobbed for all you were worth, “I was so scared, why’d you just leave me!”
You felt him stiffen beneath you at the sudden intrusion before softening and patting the back of your head with a gloved hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
And it felt so safe there, in his arms, secure but soft all at once. The familiar lavender mixed with the champagney smell from the gala soothed you in a way you’d never thought you’d needed.
“I thought they were gonna get me,” you choked out between sobs. This was in no way attractive, “and then I’d get kidnapped, and everyone would turn into puppets!”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. Not mocking or laughing at you like your more awake self would’ve expected, he was mellow about the whole thing. Sorry and really sorry for it—and it wasn’t even his fault.
When you calmed down enough to sound coherent, he pulled back to wipe the tears from your cheeks.
“Let me see that,” he nodded towards your bandaged arm. You stretched it out for him and he undid the gauze, “This doesn’t look too bad. Shouldn’t scar.”
Procuring new dressings, he took his time with it this time, applying a salve before wrapping it around you again.
“Tim?” you said his name just to say his name, because you liked the way it felt to say and you wanted to hear him speak. Instead he paused before resuming his work, “I’m Red Robin.”
“Oh.” That’s embarrassing. You were so certain of it too, but he did say he would send someone and he was probably with his family or waiting outside for things to settle. So instead you got the infinitely intangible Red Robin, “I thought you were busy.”
“Plans changed.” He was never this curt with you, not after knowing you anyway. He had to maintain secrecy, you knew this, but he’d find ways to say more anyway.
You flinched as he constricted your arm with the bandage, “You’re pulling it a little tight.”
This made him pause again, letting go of the wrap altogether this time as the circulation breathed back into your marrow.
Exhaling, he ran a hand through his raven hair, “I’m sorry.”
You blinked at him, still fighting to keep your eyelids open but worried nonetheless. This was unlike him, “Red?”
“Sorry, I’m just on edge. I should’ve known, I could’ve prevented this,” shaking his head, it was if he made up his mind, “Everything is transferred now, the project can wrap up without you. We’ll get you on the next flight back tomorrow.”
Somewhere in you an inkling of anger stirred, as if you were an object that could be sent as needed. But the strain in his voice was evident, how could hold a grudge against that? “I don’t want to leave yet.”
“You’re going.”
You huffed, “I’m not. And you don’t have to watch me anymore if it’s too much, I never expected that from you! You’re here now, you didn’t have to be, but you are— that’s more than my useless bodyguards or Wayne security have done and they’re paid for it. You put up with me and nothing has happened to me. I’m sorry for being so vulnerable, that’s my fault. Don’t you dare berate yourself, you haven’t done one wrong thing!”
He said nothing, just stared at you with something like curiosity. Under the pale moonlight and with his face obstructed you could only speculate.
You stuck out your injured arm to him again, urging him to take it, “Hurry and finish, I’m still sleepy.”
Wordlessly he finished binding your arm. As soon as he was done you fell on his shoulder, closing your eyes.
“Tim—“
“I’m not Tim,” he reiterated. There was something in his tone that you couldn’t quite place; annoyance?
“Oh,” you mumbled, feeling sleep creep up on you again, “you smell the same... I think I like him.” Surely it’s fine to confess this much, or that’s what you told yourself as you started to drift off, words slurring and thoughts blurring, “you should meet him, he’s a big fan.”
—
i have a final in 5 hours please with me luck (it’s 2am)
free churro, bojack horseman // titans (1999) #21 // perihelion: a history of touch, franny choi // titans (2008) #23 // justice league of america (2006) #2 // in defense of loving him, clementine von radics // wonder woman (1987) #165 // dc special: the return of donna troy (2005) #3 // titans/young justice: graduation day (2003) #2 // unknown // batman chronicles (1995) #7 // the summer palace, succession // titans/young justice: graduation day (2003) #3 // achilles come down, gang of youths // titans/young justice: graduation day (2003) #3 // lighthousekeeping, jeanette winterson // dc special: the return of donna troy (2005) #2-3 // titans (2008) #23 // the nation's saddest love poems, sam j. grudgings // titans (2008) #23 // infinite crisis (2005) #1 // justice league: the rise of arsenal (2010) #2-3 // writing prompts for the broken-hearted, eden robinson // titans (2008) #23 // art by christopher troise // outsiders (2003) annual // aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe, benjamin alire sáenz
dick grayson + donna troy + roy harper + being absolutely insane about each other (inspired by @dukethvmas's text post)
oopsie! You got a bit too manic about a creative project too close to bedtime and now your brain is too awake to sleep. One million dead 10 morbillion injured
In order for disabled people to receive any sort of financial assistant for their housing, food, bills, medical supplies, etc., they cannot ever have more than $2,000 of resources to their name. Ever.
It doesn’t matter what it’s for.
You’re saving up for a new wheelchair?
For college?
To put a downpayment on a house?
Hell man, you just happen to budget for once in your life so that you can have some extra money in case something bad happens?
Your benefits immediately get cut off if you’re a cent over $2,000.
And, even worse, you usually end up having to pay back every dollar the government gave you that month.
So say you get $400. If they find out you’re twenty dollars over the resource limit, you have to give them all $400 back and you undergo an investigation of your funds to see if you will continue getting money.
“What if I spend the money that day?”
Doesn’t matter. In fact, from what I can tell, people who do this are actually put under investigation for fraud.
Remember when “Guardians of the Galaxy” came out? one of Rocket Racoon’s creators, Bill Mantlo, suffered an accident in 1992 and has irreparable brain damage.
before the movie came out, Marvel gave him an exclusive preview screening. SOme people were upset because they felt if Marvel was really wanted to thank mantlo, they should have donated money to Mantlo’s family.
Bill Mantlo’s brother had to come out and explain: If Marvel gave them monetary aid, Bill Mantlo would lose his financial assistance.
My brother has been on California State SSI for autism for the last 10 years, and he absolutely has to (no joke, HAS TO) spend all 720 bucks of his SSI every month, because if he puts it in the bank he risks losing his SSI altogether.
Sometimes, at the end of the month, he has no idea what to do with his money because the whole month went by and he still has 400-ish bucks in his account, and he fucking panics because he doesn’t want to get anywhere near 2,000.
And here’s the funnest part of the story!
One day he did a huge commission on Second Life and wound up earning 1500 bucks off of it, and he told the guy to donate it 500 bucks at a time over 3 months. The guy didn’t want to, and just donated all 1500, which put my brother at 2,036 bucks.
The state IMMEDIATELY (I’m talking less than an hour) called him up to tell him over the phone that they were canceling his SSI, because they noticed he had gone over the 2,000 buck threshold. He had to tell them that someone had made a charitable donation to him and that this was not a common occurrence in any way shape or form, and upon not believing him, my mother had to call to talk to them as his legal caretaker and say basically the same thing until they called off the cancellation of his SSI money.
He also had to cancel his renter’s assistance because it put him to 1,062 a month, so if he went 30 days without spending any money they’d cancel his SSI altogether. Like, none of us in the family have any fucking clue why that regulation is in place and it’s the stupidest shit in human history.
Please, legal side of Tumblr, tell me what positive reasoning this law has?
There’s something called an ABLE account that can help. If you are on SSI and were diagnosed as disabled before the age of 26 you can apply for an ABLE account that will allow you to save up to $99,000. More people need to know about this!
This shit is why conservatives think disability is fun pampering, because they see disabled people have to come up with ways to get rid of the money and to them it looks like they must be rolling in excess.
Random goon: Hey boss, were you the one to pick that name as an alias? And why this one?
Red Hood : I used to have another name, before... A long time ago. But that person is dead now. I get to choose for myself now, they can't take that from me. I won't let them.
Goon: Huh.
***
Random Goon: Say boss, why do you never take off your shirt in front of us?
Red Hood: Well uh, I actually have that really fucked scar on my chest and I'm not comfortable with...
Random Goon: Don't worry boss, we get it, you don't have to explain yourself to us.
***
Red Hood, high on some toxin: God, I wish my family...
Random Goon (on boss-sitting duty): why not try reaching out to them?
Red Hood: They would never accept me as I am now... They wouldn't agree with my so-called "life choices". Besides, they don't miss me, they miss the person they think I used to be... I wasn't even a man when I last saw them.
Random Goon: Damn boss, that sucks.
***
And then the goons throw the Red Hood a party on trans visibility day and Jason is so confused he straight up cries.
I love Steph, she really chose to be a vigilante like, yes her father was an asshole but idk it feels so different from every other bat, even Tim who wanted to be Robin because batman needed it. Like she consistently fought her way into being a hero.
She's just trying her damn best, like there's nothing else to it, all her pain all, all of it is because she wants to do good, and be her damn best.
emily gwen, the creator of the sunset lesbian flag that we’ve come to commonly use, still continues to live in poverty.
multi-billion dollar companies have used their design and made profit from it, and yet they have not seen a cent for their creation.
i’ve been friends with emily for years, and i have not once seen them be financially stable the entire time. i’ve seen them homeless, unemployed, starving. right now, they need our help more than ever.
please consider donating to emily’s ko-fi, especially if you’ve used their design to create something and profited from it.
PLEASE REBLOG THIS AND CONSIDER DONATING TO KEEP THEM AFLOAT, EVEN IF YOU CAN’T GIVE TOO MUCH. THEY DO NOT HAVE CONSISTENT AND STABLE HOUSING RIGHT NOW AND NOBODY IS HIRING EVEN IF THEY’RE APPLYING TO JOBS DAILY. EMILY’S BILLS ARE PILING UP AND THEY’VE BEEN PUTTING OFF THERAPY + PSYCHIATRIST + DOCTOR’S APPOINTMENTS BECAUSE THEY CAN’T AFFORD IT.
I need to talk about Belle (2021) because it emotionally destroyed me. Spoilers abound.
I love that Suzu and Kei are kind of two sides of the same coin. They both lost their moms and are having to deal with their respective traumas. For Suzu, Belle is a means to an end. She’s a way to break back in to her real life. Her purpose for Belle is not to live a different life as an impossibly beautiful, popular singer. She doesn’t buy into any of the fame or adoration because it’s not about that for her. Belle was just a way for her to finally sing and fully live her real life again. For Kei, on the other hand, Ryu is fully an escape. It’s a way to be anywhere but his real life. It’s everything he wishes he could do in the real world to protect himself. Suzu is running from her past, and Kei is running from his present. Suzu has a circle of protectors in her real life (Shinobu, her dad, her mom’s choir friends), while Kei created his AI guardians for Ryu because he doesn’t have any in real life.
I love that they mirror each other, and that it’s because Suzu has experienced trauma that Belle’s able to empathize with Ryu. Her initial reaction to him is just curiosity. She just wants to know who and why. She doesn’t immediately assume he’s a monster like everyone else does because she knows what it’s like to be a news headline. She saw a bunch of strangers on the internet talk about her mom like she was a monster so she gets it. She knows it’s bullshit. She just wants the truth, wants to know why he’s bruised, why he’s in pain. And that connection was so powerful to me.
And then to have her run to save Kei and Tomo, and do exactly what her mom did in saving that kid, and for her to fully understand her mom’s choice in that moment. It absolutely destroyed me.
I like that they took the romance out of Beauty and the Beast, and made their connection a deeper one about empathy and trauma and recognizing people in pain. I love that by saving Ryu, she also healed her own inner child. I love that Shinobu and Hiro are just there being good supportive friends the entire time continuously reminding her that someone cares, and it isn’t until she’s ready to talk that they actually do. And I love that we still got a mini-romantic storyline with Kamishin and Ruka, and I love that Ruka wasn’t a mean popular girl.
I love so much about this movie. It was also visually stunning and the music was amazing. The whale imagery was so beautiful. The visual interpretation of the internet and the "U" metaverse was so cool. And the movie was funny!! I laughed out loud multiple times.
I could go on and on about this film. It truly killed me. It devastated me but also left me hopeful and heart-warmed and inspired. It’s ultimately about the power of empathy and love and human connection, and I think it’s one of my favorite animated films of all time.
