#humane

[danskjavlarna]

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[thepersonalquotes]

We need to take things personally. We need to stop putting profits above people. We need to stop putting greed above need. We need to stop putting the rule of gold above the golden rule. We need to treat people as people and not as problems.

Sharad Vivek Sagar

[k-wame]

[omanatascha]

(via GIPHY)

[robertogreco]

“The plain fact is that the planet does not need more successful people. But it does desperately need more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers, and lovers of every kind. It needs people who live well in their places. It needs people of moral courage willing to join the fight to make the world habitable and humane. And these qualities have little to do with success as we have defined it.”

David W. Orr, now added to the “Who are you now?” collection

[tiredofitallbutthegothamway]

Okay, buckle up, buttercup, because this is gonna be a wild ride.

Intro: The Cosmic Oopsie

Ever had one of those days where you just wanted to crawl back into bed and pretend the world didn't exist? Yeah, that was pretty much my life, every day. My name's Y/N, and I'm basically a walking, talking meme. My hair? A delightful gradient of faded red and my natural brown, courtesy of a disastrous DIY dye job from, like, three months ago. My fashion sense? Think comfy oversized hoodies and whatever jeans are clean-ish. My hobbies? Tumblr, fanfiction, and pretending I know what I'm doing with my witchy herbs. And exercise? Lol, no.

So, picture this: I'm chilling in my room, surrounded by half-eaten chip bags and crumpled-up notes for my latest fanfic (a truly epic crossover of a magical school and a zombie apocalypse, don't judge). I'm stirring some weird herbal tea I found on a witchy blog, trying to manifest a new phone charger (mine decided to become a fire hazard). Suddenly, there's a flash of light, a weird buzzing sound, and… bam. Everything goes black.

When I wake up, everything's wrong. Like, seriously, wrong.

Y/N's POV: In Damian's Shoes (Literally)

Okay, so, first things first: I'm tall. Like, freakishly tall. And ripped. Like, I could probably crack walnuts with my biceps. I look down, and I'm wearing… what even are these clothes? Some kind of super-tight, fancy ninja suit? And my hands? They're calloused and strong, like I’ve been chopping down trees or something.

I look around, and I'm in this massive, ridiculously fancy room. Everything's dark wood and expensive-looking furniture. There's a sword on the wall. A sword. Seriously?

Then, I see my reflection in a mirror. And… holy guacamole.

I'm… hot. Like, inhumanly hot. Sharp jawline, piercing green eyes, perfect eyebrows. It's like a Greek god decided to become a brooding anime character. And the muscles? Don't even get me started.

"What in the actual…?" I mutter, my voice deeper than usual.

I stumble out of the room, and I'm instantly lost in this maze of hallways. It's like a freaking mansion. I pass a room with a bunch of computers and screens, another room that looks like a gym (ugh), and then I hear voices.

"Damian, you're late for training."

I turn around, and there's this dude with a bat symbol on his chest. Like, a literal bat symbol. And he’s looking at me with this intense, questioning stare.

"Uh… hi?" I say, trying to sound cool, but it comes out as a squeak.

"Damian, what is wrong with you?" he asks, his voice low and serious.

"Nothing! I'm… fine. Just peachy," I say, trying to force a smile. It feels weird. Like my face isn't used to smiling.

He raises an eyebrow. "You're acting… strange."

"Strange? Me? Never!" I say, trying to play it cool. "Just… feeling a little… under the weather."

"Hmph." He turns and walks away. "Training starts in five minutes. Do not be late."

Training? What training? I'm barely coordinated enough to walk in a straight line, let alone do whatever ninja stuff this guy does.

I follow him to this huge room with mats and weapons and all sorts of scary-looking equipment. And then, it hits me. I'm in some kind of superhero lair. And I’m in the body of… whoever this Damian guy is.

"Oh, crap," I mutter.

Damian's POV: Y/N's Chaotic Life

When I regained consciousness, the immediate sensation was one of… softness. And a distinct, unpleasant scent of stale chips and something vaguely herbal. My body felt… wrong. Weak. Soft. I attempted to sit up, and my limbs felt like they were made of cotton.

I looked down. I was wearing… oversized, ridiculously patterned clothing. And my hands were small, soft. My reflection in a nearby mirror revealed a face that was… not mine. Round. Soft. Eyes that were too wide, too expressive. And the hair. Half red, half… a common brown. Disgusting.

"What is this?" I hissed, my voice high-pitched and unfamiliar.

I stood, or attempted to, and nearly toppled over. The room was… chaotic. Papers, empty food containers, and strange, dried herbs were scattered everywhere. A laptop screen glowed with what appeared to be… amateurish fanfiction.

I found a phone, and my… this person’s, contacts were filled with names like "TumblrBestie," "FanficQueen," and "Mom (The Destroyer)."

"This is… unacceptable," I muttered.

I heard voices outside the door.

"Y/N! Breakfast!"

"Coming, Mom!" I responded, my voice grating on my ears.

I walked out of the room, and I was met with a scene of utter chaos. A woman with tired eyes and a frazzled expression was attempting to make breakfast while two small, energetic boys ran around, screaming.

"Y/N, you look… different," the woman said, her eyes narrowing.

"Different? I'm fine," I said, trying to mimic this person's casual tone.

"You're standing up straight," one of the boys said, staring at me with wide eyes.

"And you're not wearing your hoodie," the other added.

"I… decided to try something new," I said, trying to sound convincing.

The breakfast was… atrocious. Burnt toast, runny eggs, and some kind of lumpy oatmeal. I ate it anyway, because I am Damian Wayne, and I can endure anything.

"Y/N, you need to clean your room," the woman said.

"Ugh, fine," I grumbled.

Cleaning this… pigsty… was an exercise in patience. I found strange objects, like a jar of dried eyeballs (fake, I hoped), and a collection of what appeared to be poorly written romance novels.

Then, the phone rang.

"Hello?" I said.

"Y/N! Where are you? We're starting the new episode of 'Magical Zombie High'!"

"I… cannot attend," I said.

"What? But it's the season finale!"

"I have… important matters to attend to," I said, and hung up.

This person's life was a disaster. A complete and utter disaster.

And then, the two small boys decided to attack me with pillows.

"Pillow fight!" they yelled.

"No," I said, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity.

But they were relentless. They swarmed me, their small hands surprisingly strong. I found myself… laughing. Laughing! It was a strange, foreign sensation.

"Y/N! You're actually playing with us!" one of them said, his eyes wide.

"Yeah! You're never this fun!" the other added.

I felt a strange… warmth. A feeling I did not recognize. It was… unsettling.

The day continued in this chaotic manner. I was forced to watch cartoons, play video games, and endure a constant barrage of questions about my "new attitude."

This Y/N person's life was… overwhelming. And strangely… endearing.

Y/N's POV: Back in Batcave Hell

"So, you're telling me you switched bodies with… whoever this person is?" the bat-dude says, his voice flat.

"Yeah, basically," I say, trying to explain the whole witchy-tea-cosmic-oopsie thing.

He stares at me like I'm speaking a foreign language.

"And you have no idea how to reverse it?" he asks.

"Nope. Nada. Zilch."

He sighs. "This is… problematic."

"Problematic? Try 'my life is a fanfic gone wrong'!" I say.

"We need to find a solution," he says, ignoring my dramatic outburst.

"Yeah, no kidding," I say. "Because I'm not exactly cut out for this whole superhero thing."

He looks me up and down. "That is… evident."

"Rude," I mutter.

He leads me to a lab filled with glowing screens and complicated-looking machines. "This is where we'll start."

"Start what? Science-ing me back to normal?" I ask.

"We will analyze your… energy signature, and compare it to Damian's," he says.

"Energy signature? Is that like, my vibe?" I ask.

He ignores me.

The next few hours are a blur of beeping machines and confusing technobabble. I try to stay awake, but it's hard when you're surrounded by science stuff and you're basically a walking meme.

"We have a problem," bat-dude says, his voice serious.

"What? Am I stuck like this forever?" I ask, my voice rising.

"Your energy signatures are… unstable. They are fluctuating rapidly."

"So, what does that mean?"

"It means… the longer you remain in Damian's body, the more difficult it will be to reverse the switch."

"Great," I say. "Just great."

Damian's POV: The Emotional Rollercoaster

The sun was setting, and I found myself… exhausted. Not physically, but emotionally. This person's life was a constant barrage of emotions. Happiness, sadness, frustration, affection. It was… overwhelming.

The two small boys were now asleep, their faces peaceful. The woman, their mother, looked at me with a soft smile.

"You've been different today, Y/N," she said. "But… it's been nice."

"Nice?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah. You've been… present. And you actually played with the boys."

"They are… energetic," I said.

"They love you, you know," she said.

"They are… tolerable," I said.

She laughed. "You're impossible."

I felt a strange sensation in my chest. A warmth. An emotion I did not recognize.

"Goodnight, Y/N," she said, and walked away.

I went to this person’s room, and I found myself staring at the laptop screen. The fanfiction. The drawings. The strange, chaotic beauty of it all.

I felt… conflicted. This person's life was a mess, but it was also… full. Full of emotion, full of life.

I laid down on the bed, and I closed my eyes. And for the first time since I arrived in this strange world, I felt… tired.

To be continued...

[redlettermediathings]