#and the whole thing happening after he's called an unperson

[thebreakfastgenie]

Not to talk about my The Late Captain Pierce suicidal ideation theory but "Trapper went home and they're still coming" I could leave and they'd still come "Henry got killed and they're still coming" I could die and they'd still come.

[deathlygristly]

So there's something that keeps showing up in kdramas and I don't get it and it really really bothers me, and I'm wondering if it's an autistic vs neurotypical thing.

A character dies in an accident, and another character is present at the accident. The family of the character who died gets really really really really extremely angry at the character who was just there when the other character died and who didn't actively kill the other character. And I mean they get angry, to the point of screaming and hitting and wanting the person who was just there to be utterly destroyed and just being extremely awful humans.

It....I don't know, maybe the way it makes me feel is the closest I can get to what people on here call moral disgust. I can barely stand watching it, and the whole time the scene is playing out I'm talking to the spousal person about how awful it is and how the family members are huge assholes and I flip them off whenever the camera focuses on their face.

It's not that I don't get grief. But it's also...like if after my father died I had gone to abuse and destroy tobacco executives at least I could have said they had some intention in his death, in the same sense as people who drive recklessly. It wouldn't have helped anything and it would have made me a truly bad person, not just a person whose brain sometimes tells her she's bad, but there would have been a bit of justification.

But unpersoning and abusing and trying to destroy someone who just happened to be in the same room when he started smoking, whenever that was?

It's just....okay, like I can totally see it if your family member was brutally murdered. It still wouldn't be a good idea because a brutal murderer would probably also murder you if you started screaming at them and hitting them, but it does make some emotional sense.

But horribly abusing someone who just happened to be there? It's wrong. It's deeply wrong.

So is that an autistic thing and neurotypical people are fine morally with unpersoning people who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, or what?

[curupiracue]

My, What a Mental World!

“Do you want to drink something?”

This caused her to drink the juice.

“We're investigating a serial killer.”

This caused her to spit the juice.

“What a waste of juice.” Novalue pointed out “and we're not investigating a serial killer, we're investigating what might be a serial killer.”

“meeew. There's not such thing as a serial killer. Hence, if we're investigating what might be a serial killer, we're investigating a serial killer.”

Of course, this was senseless even by the point of view I was suggesting it from, however I only realised it as such after I said it, or, by the point I would be unwilling to admit it as such, the event horizon of knowledge's utility.

Well, it would do for a nice debate, at least.

Unfortunately, he seemed to think differently.

“Yeah, now that you mention it, it sure is. But let's move on.” Obviously a lie to avoid a discussion. I pouted and used about every body language sign I could think of to tell him that he would be the one doing the "moving on".

He didn't fail to notice them, and as a response, grimaced. Which wasn't a complaint, but rather "fuck you" in body language.

“We called you here, in specific, because you seemed to know almost everyone in this city” fucking social butterflies “With that said... do you recognize this man?” He said, pulling a photo of three youngsters from his pocket and indicating one of them with his finger. I also had a copy of the photo on my pocket, just in case I had to do the whole speech. I mean, it would be pretty anticlimactic to say: "do you recognize this man?" while your partner pulls the photo. Unique though... I might write a story like that.

But, I digress.

“No I don't.” she answered, calmly, if warily “But what is this all about?”

“Judging by the photo's state, as well as some other details, it was taken only a few years back. And yet, no other records of him remain in this world, both physical and mental.”

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

My name is Novalue. Novalue Nodae-mue. The man, well, brat, accompanying me was Nim Hprtymesa. Well, I suppose you could say that I was the one accompanying him, but that’s not relevant. He had amber reddish hair, the length of which would be considered too short for a girl and too long for a boy and profound, empty blue eyes that looked like they weren't thinking of anything while being deep in thought. In reality, he was probably thinking about random meaningless things, though he could certainly actually get caught deep in thought.

I remember what I first thought about them when meeting him. That they were depressing, and still in that sense, scary, but had a certain allure.

To me, that description was probably of much more value than the previous one.

He was of medium height which was quite the contrast with his child-like face. In fact it was easy to forget that he was technically higher than me. But, maybe I just thought his face looked childish because of his effeminate appearance, with his slender body and long nails polished blue. Not to mention his face wasn't the only childish thing about him... He hurried into becoming an adult and is still a child.

"A child I've bound myself into", I think. Well, the phrasing is a bit incorrect, since that is not something I choose, but it never is, so I hardly have a care.

We were traveling… for, complicated reasons, I guess. Summing it up, we could travel without problems, and the reason we could do so was also the cause of us wanting to.

...That’s just how I’d simplify it. Nim would just say he wants to become a god and I’m following, but that would be a lie.

Well… not a complete lie. Most people wouldn’t care for the specifics, anyway.

We found that photo a few weeks ago, and by sheer coincidence one of the people featured on it was around to comment:

“That’s odd. I don’t remember taking that photo… But since I don’t look that younger, I guess I must have done it a few years back? Aww man… I hope age isn’t catching up with my memory…”

The moment they said these words, Nim’s intuition flared up:

“Is it just me, or…?” He asked me.

It was from that hunch that we decided to further investigate it, and thus found no registry of anyone that looked like the person in the photo.

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

And no registry means NO registry, in case you’re wondering. Even searching through the memories present in the mental world of the other two people on that photo didn’t wield any results… there were also signs of repeated memory wiping on their minds, but that wasn’t particularly concerning. In this world, if you want something, it’s best to just use psychic powers, and crime is rampant… if you are to rob someone, you can just beat them in a duel inside the mental world to gain access to their mind and promptly erase the last few minutes. Really, it’s an everyday occurrence for weaklings.

What WAS concerning, and also interesting, very, very much interesting, was that those scars were subtle. The level of expertise, and thus power, of the psychic who did that had to be monstrous, even if they were using a construction for it… I’m not even sure if great old me could pull it off!

And now, we’ve all but confirmed something else: it’s hard to be sure when we lack so much information due to the erasures, but it seems that even people who only knew them a bit, say, just their face or name, had also forgotten about them. Because that’s the ninth social butterfly we’ve interrogated already, and none of them knew about the little unperson.

Not just that, this city… I could intuitively feel it the moment I entered here, but further analysis proved it: it has a MASSIVE ratio of memory wiping. On average, maybe five years’ worth of memories, both conscious and subconscious were lost by person. Yet… nobody realised anything. There were some contradictions and suspicious lack of data on the records, true, but nothing that eye-glaring… most detectives, even psychics, wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

That’s where I enter! Not because I want to help, mind you… but because it’s interesting and helpful to ME.

And now, back to the present…

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

“Well, guess ya’ don’t know anything. Actually, something. Not knowing anything is like, tabula rasa and shit.”

She seemed weirded out. Or rather, probably annoyed. Or rather, she was like that from the beginning…? Probably Nim’s intention.

“Well… glad to be of service, I guess… Though, mind if I ask a question?”

“Sure.” I replied in the split second that Nim gave me before he would, undoubtedly, say “no”.

“Why is he dressed up like that?” She asked, pointing at Nim, and referencing the borderline Fairy Kei outfit. “Isn’t that too garish and colourful?”

“For boys, she refrained from adding” Nim stealthily told me telepathically.

“Hmmm… Sorry, I’ll answer that in a sec. First, I just need to know: Novalue, are you going to drink any more cherry juice?”

“No, I won’t.”

“Ausgezeichnet!”

He then promptly picked up my glass of cherry juice with one hand, his glass of orange juice with his other hand and threw it over her white shirt.

“...!? What the-?!”

“See? All colourful now~”

She tried to reach for him from the other side of the table, but promptly got body paralyzed and fell down face-first on it instead.

“Gee, why are you so mad? Oh, momento… Must be ‘cause you’re lacking some colours! Welp, here!” he took her glass and spilled it bit by bit on her back.

At this point, I decided to take action.

“Honestly, Nim… We already got what we came here for. Just wipe the last 15 min-”

“13 minutes and 40 something seconds, actually”

“...I don’t care. Just wipe those memories so that the serial killer won’t find any traces of an investigation and let’s go.”

“Aaah… Fine.” Nim looked half disappointed, and half satisfied by my intervention. “My pride is wounded, thooough~” He faked some dramatic sobbing while we walked away.

“If it makes you shut up, you look cute.”

“Uh, if it’s about making me shut up, then that isn’t really sincere, is it…?”

“Well then, you look cute.”

“So… um, uh, moving on. What do you conclude from the interview, as well as the ones that preceded it, Captain Hastings?”

“Well… Can’t think of anything other than a serial killer. Not just the fact that we can’t find the person, but also the sheer magnitude of it… Not any point in doing that much work if you’re not commiting a crime of similar proportion. Which suggests murder.”

“Yeah.” he agreed, a bit more serious, while placing his hand on his chin “It could be something related to economical, or political reasons, but… Not only does the victim on the photo look pretty ordinary, the amount of scars suggests that there was just too many of these murders happening, in too quick a succession… It’s not only strange to have that many rivals to kill, it’s too difficult to pull off. There’s obviously much more data to be erased about a big shot jerk than there is about some random moron. Not to mention, companies and the government don’t really have access to such powerful psychics. The best among us are just like me: grand, lofty and intellectual loners more interested on their own affairs and somewhat disconnected from reality. Not really soldier material, but it does fit in with a serial killer, or maybe even a spree killer. Not to mention we can just instantly get what we want without the need to work to someone… all in all, it does seem like the objective of the murders is simple psychological gratification.”

“You still owe me that answer: why do you want to investigate this in the first place? You never liked detective work, differently from her.” Novalue pointed out, rather wisely using a pronoun instead of the name of that person so disgraceful, even her name shared her repulsiveness.

“Huh!? It should be obvious, shouldn’t it? I want to…” I paused and placed a hand on my chest while throwing my other arm onto the air dramatically “Interview a serial killer!”

“...Should have guessed it…”

“Hmmm~ Wonder what kinda’ person they are~?”

“Well… They must be pretty messed up, right?”

[renaroo]

Promises (7/30)

Disclaimer: Batman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: One Year Later/Evil Cass allusions Rating: T Synopsis: For an entire year after the Crisis which threatened to wipe everything they knew and loved off the Earth, after so many hardships and loved ones lost, Cass and Tim find themselves battling on different sides of the globe not only for the fate of what’s left of the world, but for the sake of once again feeling purpose. [A One Year Later fixer upper]

A/N: Alright, so I took something of a sabbatical for the last week and a half. For those who aren’t familiar, there’s a convention in Austin, Texas called RTX for fans of Rooster Teeth productions, and I was blessed with the chance to go and reunite and meet for the first time so many of my friends. I think it’s given me more than enough time to recoup and get back to working on everything I can get my hands on~

Special thanks to @chimerakitten, @secretlystephaniebrown, Onceuponymous, XaoOfTheMists, KiwiBat, FanOfYourWork, and Kiyomisa on tumblr, ffnet, and AO3 for the feedback and suppot!

Picking Up the Pieces

If Tim hadn’t been there himself, he might not have believed that it had happened. His bag was setting next to him on the floor, ready to go, when he watched Cassandra tear off up the stairs and out of sight.

He had seen Cass through some low spots — Blüdhaven had been a low spot for both of them — but he had never seen such a cruel look in her eyes as the one of betrayal and disgust she threw their way once it was clear she was not invited on their excursion.

Tim’s insides twisted mercilessly at the realization that, before that moment, it hadn’t really crossed his mind whether or not Bruce intended to bring Cass along with them.

Despite being a team, it had always felt like Cass had done her own thing, so far and away from the rest of them.

Except, of course, when they had looked out for each other at Blüdhaven. Which made the guilty twisting of Tim’s insides all the worse.

He looked desperately toward Bruce. “We’re not actually going to leave her, are we?” he asked worriedly.

“If this is something to get all of us back to form, it would make sense to let Cassie come along, Bruce,” Dick said in an even more reasonable tone.

“No, she’s not coming,” Bruce said decisively.

Amazed at Bruce’s brutally blunt delivery, Tim let his jaw hang for a bit while Alfred cleared his throat to get Bruce’s attention once more.

“Sir, even beyond your reasoning for leaving behind Miss Cassandra — if indeed there is reasoning — you still have not explained to myself or her just what destinations your trip happens to entail,” Alfred reminded him sternly, almost angrily. At least, for Alfred by Tim’s estimates.

Bruce’s scowl was set, his singular protective shield from the butler’s scrutiny. “Not all of the destinations have been decided yet, Alfred.”

“And those that have?” Alfred demanded.

Silence met the question for an agonizingly long twenty seconds. Tim could not help but count them purely from how awkward it made him feel.

Getting the hing, Alfred took a deep breath and held up his hands. “I am afraid that this is once more somewhere I should firmly put my foot down. But seeing as how you cannot be so kind as to tell me where to place it, I will move on to more important matters. Matters like attending to a young woman who may not know it yet, but absolutely deserves a cup of tea.”

“Alfred,” Dick called out as the butler turned and marched off in the direction of the kitchen.

The former Robin’s upset was clear on his face, even as he looked back worriedly toward Bruce. There wasn’t the clear anger and frustration that Tim was almost expecting from Dick. He just looked like he needed answers.

Maybe for so many different questions even Dick didn’t have the words to start.

“Please say it’s true that you need Cass here to look after Gotham,” Tim begged before the silence could carry on as it had with Alfred.

Bruce’s sharp eyes shifted to him almost instantly, but he didn’t speak.

“Bruce, Cass… She’s not like the rest of us. She needs Batgirl, and to protect Gotham, and… she just lost everything she was only starting to build before,” Tim tried to explain. His hands motioned slightly with his rambling but once he caught how little impact his words were having, he grew subconscious of it and dropped his arms to his sides.

“That’s why,” Bruce answered. “Who are you, Tim?”

Caught off guard, both Tim and Dick ended up looking at each other.

“I don’t understand,” Tim responded.

“Since Superboy’s funeral, don’t think I haven’t noticed how neither of you have been asking to patrol,” he continued, as if the point was made in that simple fact.

“I physically can’t at the moment, Bruce,” Dick reminded him. “Yours and Leslie’s orders, as I remember it.”

“But that has never stopped either of you before,” Bruce pointed out sharply.

Dick’s face made it clear that he wanted to disagree more, but he held back. A sour look developed instead which, for Tim, did feel very much unlike the Dick Grayson he knew.

“It is not an indictment,” Bruce clarified. “I have found my aspirations as Batman in question these past weeks as well. I no longer can clearly see the mission in the midst of my many mistakes.”

A ping of pain hit Tim in the chest at that point. The mistakes. Like Brother Eye. Like all that led to Superboy Prime. To the things that almost destroyed all of reality as they knew it and ripped so many good, courageous heroes from them right in their primes.

The anger and blame that the community held for them all in response.

“The three of us are on the same path. We need the same healing,” Bruce continued finally. “What Cassandra needs is… something else. Something she will get in Gotham.”

Dick looked suspiciously at Bruce, putting his good hand on his hip. “Let me guess, you’ve made plans for that to happen for her? And you just couldn’t bare to share with her or us any more than you could share this trip before springing it on us?”

“I’m doing what will be right for everyone, Dick,” Bruce argued back stiffly.

Having heard enough, Tim clenched his fists and headed toward the stairs. “You’re right, Bruce. You always do what’s right for everyone.”

The sudden outburst didn’t seem to surprise Bruce, but deep down Tim was certain that it did.

“Where are you going, Tim?” Bruce asked sternly. “We’ll be leaving in half an hour—“

“I need to grab some other things, I’m sure you can wait,” Tim snapped, unable to keep the sourness from his voice.

Neither Bruce nor Dick attempted to stop him after that. And Tim had a feeling it was because their own anger at each other in the disagreement was bound to only grow after dear impressionable Tim wasn’t around anymore to get affected by it.

He didn’t care. He really did have something he had to do.

He knocked even though the door was open. It was the polite thing to do, or so he’d been told.

Cassandra was sitting on the window seat, legs pulled up, arms crossed over her knees, and face buried within the nook of her elbows so that all Tim could really see from her was the jet black hair reflecting the beams of sunrise hitting them.

When she didn’t move, Tim took the initiative and stepped into the unpersonalized yet still very Cassandra room. “This whole thing sucks,” he said to her sorrowfully. “You don’t deserve to be treated like this. I’m… I’m sorry it’s going on this way.”

For a moment, it didn’t look like Cass was going to react to his words at all, if she was even awake, but then, slowly, she withdrew more into herself, hiding in her suit as much as possible even without her mask on.

She wasn’t crying, though. Her shoulders did not heave, she was not breathing hard.

It reminded Tim of the night of the funeral. And that alone made him feel knotted up inside.

“Bruce still doesn’t know,” he tried to explain his rationale for bothering her after how horribly everything went on downstairs. “Cass, I didn’t tell him anything. So he doesn’t know about… about…” he lowered his voice and walked more toward her, just in case. “He doesn’t know about the Lazarus Pit from me. He doesn’t know that… that you’re numb. Or how you feel about… everything. I’m sure he knows something’s up. He has to. He’s… Well, he’s the world’s greatest detective. But he’s got. A blindspot. A few of them. And I think you’ve always been in his blindspot in some way. He doesn’t… he doesn’t always like to accept that you’re not…”

Trailing off, Tim rubbed at his neck. He was getting nothing from Cass and he wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to or not, given the circumstances. She was hurt and he was part of the problem. He just couldn’t stand the thought of not fixing some things before they all got up and left.

“Not?” Cass said hoarsely.

Tim looked up and met Cass’ dark eyes. He had been wrong about her not having tears, even if the rest of her face was blank.

“I’m not…?” she urged.

Feeling even more awkward and on the spot, Tim shifted slightly and coughed into his fist. “Well… Bruce sometimes just… I think he doesn’t always accept that you’re not… really perfect. That you can have mistakes or make them now or that you aren’t one hundred percent okay even if you run yourself into the ground working too hard. He just has to think you’re… okay.”

Cassandra squinted at him, roughly rubbing her tears away in one swipe of her gauntlet. “I’m… not perfect?” she clarified.

“Uh, no. I mean. You’re close. No, I don’t mean that. Not that—“ Tim face palmed and took a deep breath, collecting himself. “Cass, what I mean is that no one’s perfect. We’re human. That’s… part of life. I mean, you know that more than anyone—“

“I make… too many mistakes?” she asked almost angrily.

“No! I mean, you know more than anyone that everyone deserves a second chance,” he explained. “You know that life only means something if we’re allowed to work through our mistakes and make up for them. Right?”

She blinked at him before a broken little smile formed on her face. “You… learned that from… me?”

“Still trying to learn it,” Tim admitted. “But I see it because of you. Which is why I know that if you just explained to Bruce what’s going on with you right now, he’d understand why you need to go with us—“

“No,” Cass said firmly.

“What?” Tim asked with a blink.

“I’m staying. Here. In Gotham,” she said poking her finger out at the window. “Gotham… needs a Batman. Bruce is right.”

Shifting uncomfortably, Tim exhaled sharply through his nose. Well… you keep saying that…”

“Because it’s true,” she stated.

“He’s human, too, Cass, but look, I don’t want to fight with you over him and methodology again,” Tim said, shaking his head. “We got into it more than enough when we were working in Blüdhaven. Let’s not revisit it.”

Cass’ all-seeing eyes were firmly on him, however. “You. You’re still mad at him,” she assessed.

“Yeah,” Tim admitted almost subconsciously. “I mean… yes, I am. But.” He looked down to his hands, closed his eyes and pretended he could still feel the debris he had lifted on that first night he wore the suit. “I think it’s my job to be mad at him sometimes. To be frustrated with what he does and how he does it.”

“It’s a stupid job,” Cass said flatly.

“Ha, well, there’s no one who knows that more than me, you can guarantee that,” Tim answered with a deep sigh. “But I get the hero worship, I get the inability to see when he’s wrong because that used to be me with Bruce, and with Dick. And with Barbara. I just had to grow up myself, see everyone around me as being imperfect and really understand what that meant. What it meant for all of us.”

There was still a lack of understanding in Cass’ eyes. She peered into Tim like he was a book written in esperanto. “You loved them less?” she asked. “Because of… mistakes… of… being human?”

“No,” Tim answered almost too quickly. He shook his head for good measure. “No. I… I love them so much more. Because I know when they make mistakes… it’s just because that’s what we all do at the end of the day. Because that’s what makes them human.” He looked at Cass curiously. “How, after everything, is that not how you see the world, too? I mean… Barbara told me about how you’re making them rehabilitate Lady Shiva. If they can. And you don’t…”

“I think that,” Cass corrected, hugging her knees. “I… know that. I see that… but…” She looked back at Tim. “I see you. I see…Shiva. And I see… people.” She lowered her head, chin barely above her knees. “But… I don’t see… me. And other people, you and others… No one sees like me. No one but Shiva. No one but Cain. And they never saw me… human.”

Tim’s eyes widened with understanding. “Cass…”

“There is… a little voice inside your head… who tells you that you can be good… that you can be smart… that you can be… worthy,” Cass continued. “Sometimes it is… very quiet. But now… I don’t hear it at all.”

He looked at her intently. “I think you should tell someone this, Cass,” he urged. “I think… I think you might be… depressed… or the Lazarus Pit… I mean, haven’t you felt this before? Is it like anything else?”

Cass stared off, eyes overcast with an emotion unclear to Tim just yet. “Losing Steph,” she answered. “And Brenda. And… yes. But now it’s been longer. And I have tried very hard to make people… happy with me. But. I don’t think it will ever work now.”

Tim felt a lump in his chest and he approached Cass even closer. “Can… Is there anything I can do?” he asked her very softly.

“Yes,” Cass answered before looking back at him with a very small but still wry smile. There were tears carefully held back in her eyes. “What… you’re doing. Right now. Thank you,” she answered.

Once again that week, Tim had no idea what was the right response exactly, but he caved to his first emotional drive. And he hugged Cass so tight he might have bruised another person.

“Cass?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” she answered.

“About your scars… you being worried about them being gone,” he continued. “I was thinking… you know chalkboards? Like what people write on?”

“No,” she answered quickly but curiously.

“Well… they’re these boars and they have… words or drawings — whatever people want on them written in chalk,” he explained, poorly. “But the thing about chalkboards is that sometimes if you write too much on them, you run out of room and you have to turn the board over, to the clean side without any marks on it. Then you can start writing something new.”

Holding Tim back slightly, Cassandra squinted at him. “Why…?”

“Because maybe you shouldn’t think of it like you lost your scars, just that you’re starting new, the board’s clean, everything is still there, they still happened, you just don’t need them around anymore to remember them by,” Tim explained. “So… you know, don’t be too torn up about it. Or something, I’m mumbling,” he laughed awkwardly before rubbing his eyes.

“A second chance,” Cass clarified.

“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” Tim responded, looking at her. “Does… does that help?”

“You help, Tim,” she smiled at last. “Like always.”

By the time Tim was making his way out of the Manor, Bruce had apparently already loaded the Mercedes they were taking and had it running in the drive. He was sitting with his sunglasses on despite the fact that the sun had only barely begun to rise in Gotham. The entire scenario was almost too surreal for Tim to take as real. But it was the life he had chosen to enter what seemed like years and years ago.

Dick was pretending to be a bit more civil in the matter, sitting back against the door of the passenger side and waiting with eyes trained on the door. The moment he saw Tim approaching, he uncrossed his ankles and straightened up his own jacket.

“Hey, did you get what you needed?” Dick asked, trying for almost too casual given the circumstances.

“Not really,” Tim answered, tightening his grip on the drawstring bag he had pulled over his shoulder mostly for show. There were only a few spare items he quickly grabbed from his room and none of them were necessities. “Got enough.”

There was a look of understanding in Dick’s eyes as he nodded his head. It was more compassion and understanding in a gesture than Tim would have been able to manage with years of practice. “It’ll work out, no matter what you remembered or forgot,” he assured Tim, walking with Tim around the car as if to get in the back with him.

If Bruce cared about the gesture he didn’t let it show at all.

“If you say so,” Tim said back lowly. He paused once again and bit his lip. He studied Dick rigorously before the older vigilante could get around to looking back at him. “Dick, are you bringing your suit?”

“Yeah,” Dick said reflexively. “Aren’t you? I mean… what else could this be about?”

Tim frowned. He wasn’t sure if there was even an answer to that question. He tugged on his bag’s drawstrings. “Bruce isn’t. I know all the ways he packs for equipment and it’s… none of it is coming with us. It’s weird. How can I bring the Robin suit if… I mean what else is this about if it’s not…”

He could not finish any of the questions as the mere idea if them not having answers was enough to send a chill through to Tim’s very core.

“I… well. I mean, we can’t get too ahead of ourselves,” Dick assured him. “Besides, if it’s not about what we are with the suits, it’s still about what we are without them. And that’s the sort of thing that actually matters.”

Taking a deep breath, Tim opened his car door and slid on in. There was no good way to break it to Dick that he was not so sure what any of them were to each other without the suits anymore. Not as long as Bruce was in whatever funk was making him act the way he was. And that was simply the end of that.

[chatting-leaves]

Someone From The Internet (5/?): Double Dip

With years and years of hindsight, I've found that I have some very interesting stories of people who I have met online, some of which have sprung into solid friendships lasting decades while others have been very short lived yet have been memorable for other reasons. Once in a while, you have two that end up crossing in the most awkward way possible with results that, for myself, were quite cringeworthy at best and aggravating at worst. Bonus points when this becomes an issue in your regular, physical, day-to-day life. To begin, let's go back to the fountain of hope known as 2008.

As that year dawned, I made a lofty goal for myself: I wanted out of Albany as soon as possible, preferably in two months, and I ideally wanted to be out of New York State as I was still very bitter over losing a job with the state, a coveted thing to have, the prior summer. In the interim period, I lived on a combination of unemployment, a credit card handled by my Dad, and a well-timed check from my former job for a retroactive raise negotiated after my departure. After this, I had a random idea:

"Maybe I should see if all the taxes I didn't do in college could pay off." After doing them for every year going back as far as I could, I discovered that I had a refund of a little under $3000 coming my way via all of the tax credits I could have taken. This put a move within reach and my landing spot came down to two places, Boston and Washington, DC, the advantage going to DC because of a greater number of people I knew there and a desire to get to another part of the country. As any thirsty twenty-five year old would do, I began testing the waters of online dating in the DC area, a place where several people I knew said that the man-to-women ratio was greatly in my favor. One of the first people I began talking to was a woman a year younger than me in the Virginia suburbs we'll call Jolene.

In some regards, Jolene and I clashed. She came from a well-off family on the Gold Coast of southwest Connecticut, the land of financial types avoiding the high taxes of New York, a different experience from my down-to-earth rural roots albeit eroded from years in smaller cities. While I was a devout non-denominational Christian at that time, she was Jewish; no big deal since I am prone to have a phileosemitic streak and have been always interested by Jewish culture. My run of the mill state university education contrasted to her multiple degrees from a renowned tech school which led her to become a master in web design, the fruits of pushing girls into STEM fields before that became a buzzword. On the other hand, our sports leanings, political leanings, and our ties to Connecticut were things that we immediately bonded over and found chemistry with. All seemed to be going well, then the first shoe dropped.

The brother of a good friend, a lobbyist for a tech industry association, was buying a condo in Silver Spring, MD - the town I ideally wanted to live in after being sold on it a year earlier. He needed help to help him move his belongings from the house he already owned right down the road in an isolated residential neighborhood of DC, problem is there was a mere range of when he would close on the condo. I turned this into an exploratory trip, making appointments for several job interviews along the way. Upon hearing this news, Jolene said that she really wanted to meet while I was there.

"Where would you like to meet," I asked. "I'd preferably want to do something in the District." "There's a Starbucks in Clarendon that works for me," Jolene responded, citing a popular neighborhood in Arlington right along the Orange Line of the Metro "It's right between work and home so I can just stop on the way home from work." "I ideally wouldn't, but I'll try," I responded, genuinely wanting an additional friendship because I had designs of having a place to live when I left that week. We made plans for that Wednesday afternoon with the caveat that I may have to punt it if the closing already happened and my help was needed to help my friend's brother move. As I was about to leave, the news that the condo was closed on broke and I was going to have to help. Could I punt this? No. I reached out to Jolene, could she reschedule for the next day? No, she had plans. Friday morning near her job? Also a no-go. I apologized for having to cancel on such short notice, hoping we could make plans when, not if, I moved.

The next time I was able to check anything, she blocked me on both the dating site we had met on and on Facebook where we had already been friends. I was flabbergasted at such an overreaction to a legitimate issue, shot her a text saying so, and went along my way or at least tried to do so. Such a drastic overreaction over such a minor problem clearly was a sign that she was not meant to be long for my life and I, even in my desperate state, knew better. This unfortunately is not where Jolene's story ends.

Fast forward a little over a year and my first year in DC was a roller coaster: Job issues, living situation issues, social circles turning on me in a heartbeat, and tons of other drama. When my third living situation in just over a year, one in a large apartment complex where myself and a debt-ridden technical writer paid cheap rent to enable a senile man pushing 80, I looked for something new and found that the solution was right over my head in the apartment literally above mine. My new roommates were two guys a couple of years my junior, Ben (a fellow upstate New York native who worked in the arts field) and Nate (a local who was an accounting student). At first, Nate and I got along a little too well, he had family ties to my former home of Poughkeepsie, was producer of a college radio show I liked, and had an inkling that as our mothers had the same rare maiden name that we may be related, a thing confirmed years later. We all got along at first, however as the summer chugged by Nate and I started to wear on each other, I for my tendencies to be cluttered, he for the fact that I seemed to take more interest in his cat than he did.

By the start of September, things began to silently boil over between Nate and I. One night, he confronts me and says that he and Ben had made the decision to kick me out of the apartment effective the end of that month due to my cleanliness issues in our shared kitchen. I then ran this allegation by Ben who then raced back from work to find that Nate was putting words and stance's in Ben's mouth; the final consensus was that we all had to get better as while I was the worst of the three, we all were to blame somehow.

A week later, fresh off of a trip back home and some other activities with friends, I arrived home from having dinner with a friend to see Nate on the couch, a rare sight in itself as Nate was a  secretive person that rarely left his bedroom. A minute later, a curvy figure emerged from our hall bathroom who looked a bit familiar but I couldn't immediately place the face.

"This is my new girlfriend, Jolene," Nate said as we awkwardly shook hands, both of us knowing that we had previously pursued each other. We exchanged pleasantries then I ran to my bedroom to try to process this shocking news. It isn't everyday that you find out your roommate is dating a girl you once pursued who cut off contact because your plans changed last minute. The next day, with Nate off for the weekend to Jolene's apartment in Virginia, I revealed to Ben what had gone on between Jolene and I and how she had left me jaded. Ben then revealed a bombshell of sorts.

"He's head over heels for her because it'll force him to convert." Raised in a Unitarian household, Nate had an almost obsessive love of Judaism and yearned to be Jewish himself, a somewhat problematic situation given the matrilineal nature of that religion and the painstaking process of perseverance and studying needed to convert. In fact, when Jolene were on better terms she had told me that she would've been fine marrying a Gentile willing to convert. "Deep down, I think she might be a bit too cheerful and liberal for Nate," Ben continued alluding Nate's love of Libertarian politics and guns, a potential backlash of the far-left and vehemently anti-gun nature of the suburb where he had grown up. Personally, I wanted the whole thing to blow up because seeing Jolene made me loathe myself, that somehow I did something I didn't realize to warrant being unpersoned and that she now was dating my own roommate whose own social skills were lacking. Such an idea drove me crazy as I was trying to work through some personal issues on that front and to see that front and center only flamed out my insecurities.

Jolene was the last straw in the already strained relationship between Nate and myself and soon enough I began avoiding him (and her) as much as possible. Soon enough, he began spending most of his time at her place and spent maybe a token night or two a week in Maryland at best, his cat pretty much becoming my responsibility. Eventually, he announced his departure and while he came back to help us try to find a roommate, he had long mentally checked out of our apartment and I was ready to move on just to not have to deal with the awkwardness.

As if his girlfriend didn't do enough, Nate ended our friendship and joint tenancy by mass blocking me on everything, unpersoning me without a reason that could be easily discerned on the surface. I darn well knew why, that my past with Jolene made things weird for all of us as a whole, however I did end up moving on.

Eventually, Nate proposed to Jolene, successfully converted to Judaism, and ended up marrying her a little over two years later, coincidentally a day after I married my now-wife. Such impeccable timing given what I went through with the both of them.

[d2kvirus]

Dickheads of the Month: December 2018

As it seems that there are people who say or do things that are remarkably dickheaded yet somehow people try to make excuses for them or pretend it never happened, here is a collection of some of the dickheaded actions we saw in the month of December 2018 to make sure that they are never forgotten.

It’s almost impressive that Theresa May not only managed to be the first Prime Minister to lose three votes in a day since 1978, but also be the first person in British history to be running a government that was found in contempt of parliament.  So how could she top that?  By accusing Jeremy Corbyn of calling her a “stupid woman” and playing the misogyny card...even though she reinstated two MPs to the party to support her in the no confidence vote in spite of their currently being under investigation for groping female staffers, sending inappropriate texts to female constituents, and in one case an allegation of rape and, because that wasn’t enough, once again delaying the promised £20m of funding for women’s shelters

So nice of Priti Patel to crawl out of the woodwork to volunteer the suggestion that, if the Republic of Ireland doesn’t agree with the Britait terms given to them, the UK should threaten them with food shortages.  So not only does she demonstrate herself to be a totalitarian sociopath who is willing to have millions starve so she gets what she wants, but she also demonstrated her ignorance of the fact that 37% of the UK’s food imports are from the Republic of Ireland while I’m sure the rest of the EU won’t respond well to one of their members being threatened with the possibility of being starved into submission.

Wanting a piece of the “let’s bully the irish” pie David Vance took a break from posting Islamophobic bilge to his Gab account by tweeting how, as the Republic of Ireland is “totally dependant” on the UK for its gas supplies, the UK should cut off their supply to force them to give the Leavers the Britait they want - which not only demonstrates what sort of sociopathic morons thought Priti Patel’s threats of food shortages was a good idea, but he failed to spot the graphic he posted to support his putsch clearly showed three gas fields off the coast of Ireland...

You would think nobody would be so brainless as to delay thousands of flights on one of the busiest periods of the year for flight departures, but then those dickheads flying drones over Gatwick decided that was exactly what they wanted to do when they flew a pair of drones over Gatwick airport that grounded flights for 24 hours - which led to Liz Truss stating that the best defence against drone attacks would be those noted ground-dwelling animals that are dogs, while several newspapers (notably the Daily Mail) are currently hoping that Paul Gait and Elaine Kirk don’t take them to the cleaners for splashing their names and faces across their front page claiming they were the ones responsible

With the Tories once again tooting on the immigration dog whistle in order to gain public support for their Britait plans Sajid Javid announced the day before the Home Office was due to release its white paper on immigration that would outline what immigration system the UK would adopt after cutting their nose off to spite their face that, actually, they wouldn’t be releasing them until after the Commons vote, but Commons can go ahead and vote even though yet more information has been withheld

It appears that Jacob Rees-Mogg doesn’t understand how arithmetics work considering his response to losing a vote 63/37 was to give some mealy-mouthed waffle about how the result isn’t genuine, yet he’s spent the past two and a half years stating that winning a vote 52/48 makes the result 100% legally binding, you can't have a second referendum, the people have spoken and if you disagree with the result no matter how many lies were told to get it you are a traitor and have achieved Unperson status

For some reason Kevin Spacey though the best use of the remarkable amount of free time he has on his hands these days was to post a video of him in character as Frank Underwood that came across as him attempting to get his role on House of Cards back (as well as, you know, appearing to be remarkably creepy) - which went so well within hours of the video going up he was charged with sexual assault

It seems that the BBC didn’t learn from the initial attempts to gaslight the public about the Vicargate scandal as they kept on trying to lie their way out of the hole they dug for themselves by stating that “Lynn” wasn’t a paid actress and the only money she received was an unspecified disturbance fee...which not only means that they paid her to appear, but it wasn’t long before several other Newsnight panelists mentioned they had not received a disturbance fee for their appearances

Not only did various Troy MPs such as Dominic Raab, Claire Perry, Ross Thompson, John Lamont, Nigel Evans, Kirstene Hair, Damien Moore, Steve Brine, David Mundell, Steve Double and Luke Graham think it was a good idea to post photos of them all smiles as they visited their local food banks, which mainly served to make them look remarkably similar to the rednecks posing with the endangered species they just gunned down to show what manly men at the height of their manliness they are, the fact that most of these photos were tweeted with the exact same caption (while also plugging Tesco) make it clear that they were posting these on orders from above

Apparently Boris Johnson forgot to declare the £52,000 he was paid by the Daily Telegraph - because that’s such a small amount of money that it obviously wouldn’t occur to him that he might have to declare it...

It seems that Louis CK got a little rusty with his lack of performing due to charges of sexual harassment, which is the only logical reason for his routine saying the Parkland survivors aren’t allowed to demand gun control because they weren’t shot dead.  The amount of logic fails in that sentence is staggering

It didn’t occur to Leave.EU that, if they want to post a video triumphantly declaring that a whole twelve of their members were willing to block Westminster Bridge until they get what Arron Banks and Richard Tice get - the problem is the video they posted showed their rent-a-mob was preventing an ambulance that was on call from crossing Westminster Bridge, which I’m sure the paramedics were really happy about...

Congratulations to Seaborne Freight for the £14m of taxpayer’s money they received after being awarded a contract to run a freight service between Ramsgate and Ostend - in spite of the minor inconvenience that not only does the firm not have a trading history, but they don’t have a single ship - but I’m sure that the fact that Seaborne is run by Mark Bamford whose main claim to fame is being the brother of noted Tory donor Anthony Bamford has nothing to do with it...

Sentient testicle Toby Young used his Spectator column to whine about how this Christmas he hasn’t received a single card nor been invited to any parties, which he says is entirely the fault of the Twitter hate mob for pointing out the blatant racism, homophobia and misogyny in his tweets and columns as well as his free school’s exclusionary policies towards the disabled.  So no, it's definitely not the fault of an obnoxious toad who wrote a book called How to Lose Friends and Alienate People for losing friends and alienating people with his own dickheadishness...

Person who was unaware Britain is an island Dominic Raab thought he was being really clever when he tweeted a graph to claim that British workers’ wages are rising - which only served to demonstrate their wages are lower than they were a decade ago

It’s funny how Ivan Lewis failed to use the words “suspended”, “for”, “sexual” or “misconduct” when announcing his departure from the Labour party - although it’s not funny how Sky News swallowed his version of events hook, line and sinker instead of do some researching, which happens to be what a journalists’ job involves

Glorified gameshow host with one hell of a chip on his tiny, tiny shoulder Alan Sugar responded to people hoping that his promise to leave the country if Jeremy Corbyn became Prime Minister with hope that he was true to his word by tweeting some really bad fridge poetry that culminated with him stating people with less money than him were “losers” who “have not achieved anything in life” - which I’m sure was appreciated by healthcare workers, firemen, teachers, and numerous other people who don’t make as much money as him so are, therefore, worthless

In a bid to remind people what scumbags they are Chelsea fans managed to cram racially abusing Raheem Sterling when they played Manchester City, then a few days later were heard breaking out their usual chants about Auschwitz and gas chambers when playing Hungarian team Vidi

It didn’t occur to Blizzard Entertainment that anyone who played Heroes of the Storm professionally would like to be informed ahead of time that they had cancelled the games’ esports events planned 2019 - although, as there’s talk of Activision cutting back at Blizzard, this may not be on them

Marketing genius Soulja Boy had a great idea: sell one of those emulator consoles that can be bought for around $100 and then jack up the price by 50% because of reasons, and within a few weeks pull them from stores because Nintendo’s lawyers hit him so hard they even got hold of his web domains

Hapless berk Mike Dean once again felt the need to listen to the paranoid gibberish of Arsenal fans claiming he’s a Spurs fan before a North London Derby by proving himself to be impartial...by booking Eric Dier for celebrating a goal yet failing to do anything when the Arsenal bench rushed on the pitch to jostle with him and his Arsenal teammates, nor did he seem to think Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang’s celebration in front of Spurs fans was a bookable offence

None of which excuses Averof Pantelli for throwing a banana peel on the pitch at Aubameyang, while his excuse of claiming that he isn’t racist because the peel wasn’t his but a kid who dumped it on the floor and, by the way, I’m not racist and anyway Greek Cypriots can’t be racist didn't help his case much

And then Arsenal fans promptly fell off the moral high ground two weeks later when one of their fans threw a bottle at Dele Alli while several of theirs were caught singing anti-semitic songs when Spurs knocked them out of the Carabao Cup in their own backyard

According to Jonathan Agnew no BBC presenter should be allowed to voice any political opinions on their own Twitter, which of course doesn’t look like Agnew saying that because he doesn't agree with Gary Lineker that means Gary Lineker is wrong and should therefore be the subject to droning idiots incorrectly citing the BBC guidelines to him

Good work by Tumblr in deciding that mass-flagging of content was the way forward, which mainly served to piss off the numerous models, photographers and artists - but judging by my follow list did nothing to deter those pages that advertise the various camgirls who are so keen on talking to you that they have a photo of them in no clothing whatsoever to advertise this

And finally, failing to do ten seconds of research when writing a statement upon someone’s death, there’s government shutdown enthusiast and person who thinks that believing in Santa Claus is more credible than acknowledging climate change Donald Trump - but nobody died, right?

[hardwarevent]

Shivers

There’s one thing I noticed over the years, is that when I’m in an argument and I’m really emotionally aggravated (not sad, but angry) I start shivering. A while ago I was arguing with an ex over IM about some stupid shit (her boyfriend tried to send me naked pics of her to me, i didn’t accept them, i told her, she didn’t believe me, and it was a “you don’t believe me” thing. I got really upset, and I couldn’t stop shivering. I wasn’t cold, I was just upset. Today I let C under my skin over some stupid shit that shouldn’t have bothered me.Basically I used the term “witch hunt” and they’re like “I see you picked up that term from <my roommate>” like PEOPLE DON’T USE THAT FUCKING TERM TO DESCRIBE PEOPLE GOING AFTER SOMEONE IN DEFENCE OF SOMEONE ELSE WITH A FERVOR THAT IS FAR GREATER THAN IS NECESSARY FOR THE CRIME COMMITTED but then it turned it into a thing, and we both were kind of at each other’s throats. I think it was my fault, I slipped and something came out more aggressive than it should have, from reading the chat logs afterwards. But now there’s not much else to do about it. But I’m shivering now. I really shouldn’t have let them get under my skin. Maybe I should eat something. I didn’t eat dinner because I went to gymnastics, and I didn’t feel like I had time. I think.... I think I can’t actually interact with C anymore. Not just like in a “I think we will end up fighting” thing, but like, I don’t think there’s a way to clear this up. What do I say. It’s like what happened to my roommate and C. Something went wrong, and C was expecting an apology that never came, and now they don’t talk to each other. I did apologise, but... I don’t think it did anything. Like, is it worth opening up to them, about, like, everything, how I felt our whole relationship. Is it one of those things where I’ll regret it if I don’t? I don’t think I... well I think I should sleep on it. It’s really late. I guess my last thought for the night is: People are broken. Everybody is broken to some degree. Most of the time it is significant damage. I have damage. C has damage. I read a book called something like that, Everybody’s Damaged or something like that. SO what does that mean? We all got issues. No one dies a virgin, life fucks all. When we grow up, shit hurts us bad. And it’s like chicken pox too. You can try and shield people, but they’re only gonna get hit harder when they’re older, cuz they’re not used to being hit. Whatever. I think maybe I fucked up today. Yeah, I probably fucked up. My life is a series of major screwups. People could see my life and think “wow, he’s got his life together” but like, no? I’m boring, unpersonable, single.... money doesn’t mean anything. I want to be handsome, I want to be strong, I want to be liked, I don’t want to be alone....