#and the beef I have with “my way or the highway” batman

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Ask Batman what his greatest failure is? In a millisecond dozens of things will flash through his mind.

Allies and Friends broken because he wasn't fast enough, life's lost because his arms couldn't reach far enough, and cruel fates of minds he could not find enough reasoning against the fates.

Ask Bruce Wayne? All he sees are glimpses of those grey blue eyes, looking at him as if he'd hung the stars in the sky and handed over the keys to a rocket.

Those blue eyes, turned dull- as a fathers grief could do nothing to return life into the broken body he cradled in his arms long after the flames turned to embers.

Now, green eyes, who hesitate to give him more than a glance- who portray more hurt and betrayal than he can comprehend without feeling ill.

His son- whom he failed, all because he made believe he wasn't enough.

tbh I think jason shouldn't ever be called "batman's greatest failure" because he's bruce wayne's greatest failure I know they're the same guy. But there's a degree of separation batman gets to have — the difference between a soldier and a son

[sohotthateveryonedied]

When Everyone Who Loves me Has Died

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

"Everything is as it should be, yet here I am, still feeling like I’m missing something.”

“Like what?” Tim can’t remember the last time he saw Harley sit still and listen for so long without getting fidgety. Either she's learning self-control, or Tim's life is just really fucking depressing.

“Like...I don’t know.” Tim scratches his thumbnail against some dried paint, unable to feel the chill of the metal through his glove. “Everyone is back, but that doesn’t erase the fact that they were dead. That part still happened, regardless of whether they came back or not. It’s like—like burning a hole in a piece of paper and covering it with tape. It doesn’t heal anything.”

Whoever came up with the concept of mind over matter should be imprisoned for false advertising. Tim has been trying to get his mind over the matter for months now, and the matters are still very much gripping the steering wheel. If anything, his mind gave in and slid into the passenger seat, going along for the ride. Tim is sitting on a billboard platform, Lex Luthor’s ginormous bald self providing a nauseating backdrop as he advertises whatever world domination kick he’s on at the moment. Tim watches the cars go by on the highway, utterly indifferent to the tiny speck of a vigilante watching from above. His cowl is down, but he isn’t worried. It’s unlikely that anyone will be able to spot him up here, civilian or otherwise. Besides, it gets harder and harder to breathe under the weight of the mask these days. He was supposed to be getting better. The days are coming in at longer intervals, which should be a relief. Days when he gets “dark and twisty” as Jason lovingly calls it, which isn’t too far off, Tim supposes. Something inside of him is definitely twisted, coiled into a furl of darkness where there used to be light. God, he needs therapy. He should be getting better. There is no logical reason to be feeling this way. Not anymore. Not when things are finally back where they should be after years of grief. Maybe something has been knocked loose in his brain, keeps him on this brink he can’t seem to sway to either side of. He’s not happy, but he’s not completely sad either. There’s no logic to it, no reason. No closure. Is this how ghosts feel? Like they’re straddling the in-between, stuck feeling like everything they have is just slightly out of reach? “Why the long face, kiddo?”

Tim is up in an instant, fumbling to pull his cowl back over his face. He raises his bo staff at the prowler, only to find Harley standing at the other end of the platform, her arms packed with reusable grocery bags. She’s wearing civilian clothes: a Nightwing tank top and leather pants that look like she doused them in glue and rolled around in a kiddie pool filled with glitter. Tim relaxes. He lowers his staff. “You shouldn’t do that. I could have knocked your head off.” “Nah, I’m too good to be taken down by a twelve-year-old.” “I’m eighteen.” “You sure? ‘Cause I could have sworn you were still in middle school.” “Hilarious.” “Thanks, I’ve been thinkin’ about doing some comedy on the side to pay the bills. Eddie says I’ve got a real knack for it.” Harley sits on the edge of the platform beside the spot where Tim was before. “I asked you a question, by the way.” “Bruce is going to kill me if he finds out I’m hanging out with you.” Fine, so that’s a minor exaggeration. Bruce will always have beef with Harley regardless of how many good deeds she does. Dick’s theory is that Bruce has some lingering bitterness from his and Harley’s rivalry from med school, and he probably isn’t too far off. The rest of the family is far looser when it comes to trusting Harley; Alfred even sent her a Hanukkah gift last year. “You and I both know Brucie is in Metropolis this week.” At Tim’s inquiring look, she explains, “My mom is friends with him on Facebook. So, are you gonna spill or what? ‘Cause I’ve got ice cream here and I swear to god I’ll fill your nostrils with tapioca if it melts.” Tim rolls his eyes. He lets his cowl fall back against his neck and sits beside Harley. “I’m fine.” “And that’s why you’re hanging out here all angsty-like?” “I’m not angsty.” “You’re the angstiest person on this fuckin’ billboard.” Which, fine, that’s probably true. “I don’t need a PHD to tell that something’s eating ya, kid. Which I do, by the way. Got the certificate and everything.” Tim gestures to her grocery bags. “I thought you had somewhere to be.” “What, these ol’ things? Nah. I just have a date with Pam-a-lamb tonight and had to borrow some supplies.” “Borrow?” “The manager there was a dick, anyways. He’s the one who got all snappy when I ate all the free samples, so trust me. He deserved to get his stuff stolen.” “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” “I’ll go back and return the thirty-seven scratch-offs I took if you tell me what’s bothering you.” Tim looks out over the black horizon, the moon barely visible behind the clouds. “It’s nothing.” “Everything is something. Gandhi said that.” “Pretty sure he didn’t.” “What, did you personally know the guy?” She nudges Tim with her elbow. “Well? Spit it out, Timberlake.” Tim lets out a breath. “It’s just...you know when you lose something really important to you? And you miss it, but after a while, when you’ve already accepted that you’ll never see it again, you find it? And you’re happy to have it back, but there’s still...something is missing. Almost like you never found it at all, you know?” “Not really, no.” Tim’s mouth twitches upward. “I’ve spent the past two years in mourning, but now I don’t have to mourn anymore. Everything is perfect again.” Harley arches an eyebrow. “Lemme guess, you don’t know why you still feel like you’re grieving?” Tim nods. “Small fry, that’s not a symptom. That’s normal for someone in your situation.” “No, it isn’t. I should be happy right now. I should—I should be the happiest I’ve ever been. I spent so long trying to make everything right again, and I did it. Conner is back. Bart is back. Bruce is back. Everything is as it should be, yet here I am, still feeling like I’m missing something.” “Like what?” Tim can’t remember the last time he saw Harley sit still and listen for so long without getting fidgety. Either she's learning self-control, or Tim's life is just really fucking depressing. “Like...I don’t know.” Tim scratches his thumbnail against some dried paint, unable to feel the chill of the metal through his glove. “Everyone is back, but that doesn’t erase the fact that they were dead. That part still happened, regardless of whether they came back or not. It’s like—like burning a hole in a piece of paper and covering it with tape. It doesn’t heal anything.” “Well, of course it doesn’t.” Tim looks at her, surprised. Harley’s eyes are serious for once, void of humor. “Having all your folks back doesn’t erase the fact that they were gone. Grief is what makes us human. Still feelin’ bad after everything is fixed just means you’re still working on it.” “That’s it?” Harley’s eyebrows furrow. “What’s it?” “I thought you were going to...I don’t know, crack open some huge revelation and make me realize it’s all in my head or something.” “I mean, it kind of is in your head.” Harley tugs on one pink pigtail. “Grief doesn’t come from your feet, Timantha.” “So...how do I fix it?” Harley shrugs, sitting back and swinging her legs in the air. “Fuck if I know. Go see a therapist or something?” Tim snorts. “I’d rather not.” “What, you got a prior engagement? Too busy for psychoanalysis?” “I can’t exactly go to a normal therapist and explain to them that all of my friends are superheroes and my dad is Batman.” “Hm. Point taken, bird boy.” Harley goes to boop his nose, but Tim swats her away. “Talk to me then. I’m a dandy good listener.” “Thanks, but I’m good.” “I’m serious. Got the license to practice and everything.” “I’m pretty sure psychology licenses expire once you’re imprisoned for terrorism.” “Well, jeez, go and insult me, why don’tcha? And after I offer my help like the good citizen I am.” She stands, picking up her shopping bag. Then she digs around in her pockets and comes out with a small white card. She hands it to Tim. Harley Quinn — hit(wo)man, psychiatrist, bounty hunter, dog walker, mercenary, finder of lost things, life coach. “And that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” she says with a wink. “I’m also considering goin’ into doggie makeovers.” “I don’t know,” Tim says. “I won’t go blabbing your information to Croc or no one, cross my heart. I strictly abide by the doctor/patient confidentiality rules.” A pause. “Most of the time.” Then she looks back at the billboard of Lex, looking for the world like a vengeful Mr. Clean god. “I’m sure he won’t tattle.” “I don’t think the Justice League would think very highly of one of their own getting therapy from an ex-supervillain.” “So? Fuck them, they’re a bunch of crusty old people anyway. Come on, think about it, Timberly. I’ll even give you the friends and family discount so long as you bring doughnuts when you visit. Teen angst makes me hungry.” Tim considers it for a moment, then sighs. “I’m free on Thursday afternoons.” Harley grins. “It’s a date, bird boy.”

[boozedancing]

May 26, 2018 7:12 AM

The plan is to be on the road by 7:59 AM. Let’s see how that goes.

May 26, 2018 8:16 AM

Car’s all packed up, but we’re 17 minutes behind schedule. Oh well.

May 26, 2018 10:02 AM

Quick stop for a double espresso and an iced coffee at the Paramus rest stop on the Garden State Parkway.

May 26, 2018 12:14 PM

Our first beer stop was at Hudson Ale Works in Highlands, New York where I had a flight of the following:

How Sweet Wit Is: Classic Belgian Wit. Lightly spiced with light, fizzy carbonation. Crisp. Clean. As it should be!

Gose, The Imposa: just the right amount of pucker. Lemony and refreshing.

Check the Technique Blueberry Sour: Like a fresh picked, just underripe blueberry. Super refreshing and not too puckering. Mrs. G-LO really liked this one too.

Green Tea IPA: Not super hoppy at all. Smooth and creamy with a light IPA bite and mellow green tea notes in the aftertaste.

Hudson Ale Works was well worth the stop. Cozy tasting room. Prompt, courteous service. Fresh and well crafted beers. The Gose and Blueberry Sour were definite winners. The pulled pork tacos that I ordered for lunch were just ok. Could have been hotter. But ya gotta eat when sampling beer, so they did the job.

May 26, 2018 1:28 PM

I like that you can get drinking paraphernalia in the gift shop at the Vanderbilt Mansion in Hyde Park.

May 26, 2018 1:33 PM

One can amass unimaginable wealth when…

(A) There are little to no regulations and…

(B) You don’t properly pay your workers and deny them any and all benefits.

Just sayin.

May 26, 2018 3:21 PM

Really well done tour at the Vanderbilt Mansion! Our tour guide, who reminded me of Michael Stuhlbarg, was particularly memorable. And Freddie Vanderbilt didn’t sound douchey at all. For a multi-millionaire!

May 26, 2018 4:14 PM

Had the following beers at Sloop Brewing in Elizaville, New York:

Juice Bomb IPA: Smooth and creamy with citrus and some tropical fruit. Slightly dry finish with minimal lingering bitterness.

Up from Downstate Tart IPA: Starts with the citrusy hops. Ends with a lightly lemony tartness. Hides that 6.5% really well. A fine hybrid!

Love the rustic setting and the whole off the beaten path vibe at Sloop! The downside, staying too long and drinking too much could make for a long drive home on tight two lane country roads. Do they have Uber up there?

May 26, 2018 8:26 PM

Dinner at The Publyk House in Bennington, VT.

In the mood for a salad bar? This place had one! And it was prettttty prettttty good. Dig that they had super chunky and creamy Blue Cheese dressing. Dinner was a smoking hot baked New England cod with a cracker crust and a baked potato on the side. Nothing super fancy. But all quite good. Had a Watermelon Moscow Mule to wash it all down. Decent drink, i.e. not too sweet, but it could have been a bit spicier. Overall, a very nice place to have a solid and well prepared meal. Bonus points for the Mountain View and our chipper and very pleasant server named Rebecca.

May 26, 2018 8:35 PM

Interesting art work in our room at The Harwood Hill (the motel down the street from The Publyk House). The painting over our bed is called Isle of Skye. Isn’t that where Talisker is made??? Nice choice of artwork for a Single Malt lover such as myself!

May 26, 2018 8:57 PM

Wedding Crashers is on! A fine way to wind down after a long day of driving.

May 27, 2018 7:15 AM

Not a bad room for $90/night (though the bed was seriously lacking. Oh my aching back!), but I swear there isn’t a right angle in the joint. The whole room is on a downward slope and there’s this weird lip in the bathroom where I almost stubbed a toe on several occasions. They have a rain shower though, so I got that going for me! And they have some funky sculptures on the front lawn too.

May 27, 2018 10:52 AM

Breakfast at Sonny’s Blue Benn Diner. That’s Benn with two n’s. Not a typo. Ordered the Popeye Benedict. Spinach instead of Canadian Bacon. No relation to Popeye Doyle. No heroin dealing Frenchmen in this story. Though our chef looks like a graduate of the VT DOCCIA.

So how was that Popeye Bennie? A bit of a bland mess. Spinach could have used some sautéing in garlic and olive oil and maybe some crushed red pepper flakes. English muffin was soggy and under toasted. Hollandaise was runny. Eggs seemed fine, but I couldn’t tell where the poached egg yolks begin and the sauce ends. The highlight was the catch all home fries. Got extra mushrooms from that omelette? Throw em in there! Bacon bits? Go for it.

Overall, not a very memorable breakfast. But Mrs. G-LO chose better and was pleased. Happy wife, happy life! Am I right?

May 27, 2018 11:48 AM

Popped in to Dwyer’s State Line Beer and Wine on the Vermont / Massachusetts border. One of the few times that I’ve actually been able to find truly local beers in a New England liquor store. Ran into a fellow beer lover from Boston that was super helpful since I had no clue what to buy.

May 27, 2018 1:37 PM

No. It’s not Whisky. It’s Maple Syrup.

May 27, 2018 3:12 PM

Only a Vermonter can call a Vermonter a Common Cracker. Pronounced Crack-ahhhh.

May 27, 2018 4:23 PM

Oh the things you stumble upon in The Vermont Country Store. I now understand what they mean when people say, “They’ve got everything from soup to nuts”.

If I had hair and used Gee, Your Hair Smells Terrific, I have no doubt that my hair would indeed smell terrific.

Does anyone remember Lifebuoy?

Holy Maple Syrup display, Batman!

Cheese!

Fozzy!

Lamb Chop!

SLINK!

May 27, 2018 5:21 PM

We had dinner at J.J. Hapgood’s General Store in Peru, VT. Part general store. Part eatery. Part pizzeria. This place has something for everyone!

Started things off with a Maine Beer Company Lunch IPA which is always a fine choice. The Mrs. went with a Lavender Lemonade Cocktail which is good if you like your drink to taste like Yardley’s English Lavender. She liked it. I didn’t.

First round of food was wood fired asparagus with a fried egg on top and pan seared diver scallops. Both were perfectly cooked and seasoned. We polished them off lickety split. Cause they were so so good!

Round two was a pizza topped with cherry stone clams, mozzarella, parsley, and red pepper flakes. The Mrs. thought it was too spicy. I thought it was just right. The crust was light and airy, but tasted a bit too much like a cracker. Some yeasty notes would have been nice. Other than that, it was quite good. And that squeeze of lemon is a nice touch!

The Mrs. ordered a burger and fries. I had a bite. While it was a bit beyond medium well, it was a tender, loosely packed, and flavorful bit of beef goodness served on a brioche bun.

J.J. Hapgood’s was well worth the visit. It’s a quirky little place staffed by folks that obviously give a damn about what they’re doing. Give it a try if you’re ever driving through Peru, VT!

May 27, 2018 7:02 PM

I scream-ah.. You scream-ah… We all scream-ah… For Ice Cream-ah…

May 28, 2018 8:19 AM

Almost exactly 48 hours later and we’re headed back home.

May 28, 2018 8:50 AM

Breakfast at Papa Pete’s in Bennington, VT before we hit the highway. Big ass pancake for the Mrs. with a side of bacon. Belgian waffle with strawberries for me. Pretty good overall. Weak ass coffee. Big personalities from the staff. Funny and friendly. This is a post hangover joint for sure. The guy at the table behind us was having a mimosa. Lots of talk about day drinking. A quirky, greasy spoon. I like it!

May 28, 2018 12:31 PM

Quick stop at Hudson Valley Brewery in Beacon, NY during the drive back to South Jersey. Tried four Sour Ales and a Pilsner. All were delicious and riddled with flavor! Lots of fruit. Lots of pucker. Hoping their stuff finds their way to South Jersey and Philly real real soon.

48 hours in the @TheHudsonValley and Southwest #Vermont. #CraftBeer #Photos #Diary #RoadTrip May 26, 2018 7:12 AM The plan is to be on the road by 7:59 AM. Let’s see how that goes.

[newstfionline]

Thousands pile into makeshift shelters, big and small, across Texas

By Kevin Sullivan, Katie Zezima and Arelis R. Hernández, Washington Post, August 28, 2017

HOUSTON--When help finally came, the floodwater was so high that the rescue boat motored right up to the balcony of Stephanie Browning’s second-floor apartment.

Browning, her boyfriend, his two young sons, their two dogs and eight neighbors clambered into the boat. It brought them to a huge city dump truck, which eventually deposited them, soaked but safe, at the George R. Brown Convention Center, which has been turned into a cavernous shelter for Harvey evacuees.

“It was really scary--you’re in the boat, and you don’t see roads, you see tops of trees,” said Browning, 41, sitting on a cot with her family amid thousands of identical cots in the nearly 2 million-square-foot downtown shelter.

From Houston to Austin to San Antonio to Dallas, thousands of people whose lives have been upended by Harvey are living in shelters that range from this hall, one of the nation’s largest convention centers, to churches, gyms, tiny recreation centers--even a furniture store.

Officials say more than 30,000 people may be forced from their homes by Harvey, and many whose homes have been severely damaged or destroyed by deadly winds and astonishing floodwater may need shelter for weeks or months to come.

By Monday afternoon, about 3,200 people were at the convention center, and a steady stream of newcomers was arriving in buses, in trucks, in cars and on foot.

“People are finding their way here and coming on in and getting registered,” said Lloyd Ziel, a Red Cross official. The shelter’s capacity is about 5,000, he said.

As the rescued streamed in, hundreds of volunteers sorted through huge piles of donated clothing, shoes, pet food and other supplies that were being dropped off by donors in huge plastic bags. The Red Cross supplied blankets, towels, toiletries, water and big tables of food. Dozens of people gathered around a large-screen TV to watch hurricane news.

Elderly people in wheelchairs and walkers sat quietly or slept, while scores of children played with some of the hundreds of rescued dogs. A father-son pair dressed in Batman costumes walked through the crowd, bringing smiles to faces of people who looked otherwise dazed, tired and wet from the slashing rains still hammering Houston on Monday.

“I’m so cold,” said Irma Lutes, 71, who tried to warm up under two white Red Cross blankets in the air-conditioned hall. “But I’m happy to be here.”

Fast-rising waters had forced Lutes, her husband and their son out of their Houston home and into their son’s pickup, where volunteers in a boat rescued them a couple of hours later. The rescuers took them to a main highway where they boarded a bus that brought them and their two large dogs to the convention center.

Lutes said she felt lucky that she had flood insurance for their house. But she said it was hard to be in a shelter at her age. She said she has diabetes and severe arthritis and chronic pain in her hip. All of it felt worse as she sat in a shelter.

“I have no idea what’s going to happen next,” she said.

David McDougle, youth pastor of First Baptist Church North Houston, said his house was about to flood when he got a phone call from firefighters asking if he could open the church as a shelter.

McDougle and his wife set up tables and chairs in the gym, and the National Guard and sheriff’s office began arriving with people in enormous six-wheeled vehicles. McDougle told authorities the gym can safely hold about 150 people, but truckloads of people kept arriving until there were between 300 and 350 people Sunday night.

The McDougles provided water, ramen noodles, canned soups, beef ravioli, hot dogs, chicken patties, a few cans of chili and more.

Monday morning, the floodwater receded, and about 100 people left.

“A lot of people were leaving because we didn’t have food and stuff, and we were trying to get them to stay because it’s safer here, but they decided to venture out on their own,” he said.

Donations have been flowing in since: hot dogs and tortillas from Walmart, clothing and a truckload of blankets. Church food pantry volunteers made potato soup, and they handed out toiletries that had been intended for a church mission trip.

Alex Vazquez, 22, was called up for service as a member of the Texas National Guard and said he is ready to help his fellow Texans. But he can’t get to his command post because of flooding.

Instead, he and his family--his parents and two siblings--walked to the First Baptist Church shelter in the middle of the night after their single-story home took on almost a foot of water. The walk usually takes five minutes, but it took more than an hour as the family trudged through waist-deep floodwater.

Vazquez said his supervisor told him to come to the post--about 30 miles away--when he can.

He never thought he’d be deployed to his home town.

“I was thinking it was going to happen to another city, to our neighboring state Louisiana, which gets hit pretty hard. But my home town--didn’t see that one coming,” he said.

In Austin, Red Cross spokeswoman Bristel Minsker said 300 Harvey evacuees are living in shelters. More than 45 evacuated people had taken shelter at a recreation center in Smithville, a town of 4,000 people about 50 miles southeast of Austin. Local residents have been donating meals and supplies to help them out.

Floyd Henderson said he had been awakened early Sunday by his two teenage daughters and hopped out of bed into knee-deep water. Harvey’s rain and runoff swamped the Colorado River and flooded his neighborhood.

The 44-year-old mechanic began to panic. “I can’t swim,” he said. “I was freaking out.”

He, his wife, Yvonne, and their daughters waded through the dark waters to the garage and climbed into his half-submerged Cadillac. The car started, and they were able to drive to safety through the darkness and deep water.

Henderson returned to his street Monday and saw his furniture and Xbox game system floating in the murky water.

“I don’t know when we can return,” he said.

Johnny Garcia and his family were fleeing the flooding in their home town of Bay City when they arrived at the Smithville shelter on Monday. Garcia didn’t want to leave his home, but, he said, “My wife kept nagging me, and I gave in. It’s been 35 years of marriage, and thank God, I listened to her this time,” he said.

“I’ve never seen a flood like this. It came quick,” he said. “We were prepared, but this is unprecedented.”

In San Antonio, Jude McFarland and his family have been staying at a shelter on San Antonio’s Southside since Wednesday, when they left their home in Corpus Christi ahead of Hurricane Harvey.

When evacuees aren’t watching football on the two TVs set up in the shelter, they try to catch a glimpse of their abandoned homes on the news. McFarland’s friends were unable to get a look into the family’s first-floor apartment, but he expects the worst.

This is the McFarlands’ second experience as refugees. They escaped rising floodwater in their New Orleans home during Hurricane Katrina, and their daughter was born shortly after.

The couple and their newborn bounced from shelter to shelter in the immediate aftermath of Katrina, then spent a few years in a FEMA trailer. Finally, subsidized housing opened up in Corpus Christi, and the family moved there in 2008.

“I thought we were okay, and now we have to start all over again,” McFarland said.