#making the effort to do things unrelated to mask business. he has to write a report about the incident and he struggles to even put into

[superbat-lmao]

Jason travels to an alternate universe where Bruce only cares about being Batman. He took in each of his kids to serve the mission, not be his children.

Now, faced with alternate versions of his family, Jason has to grapple with the fact that his Bruce does care, that he is his father. Because the man in front of him now, trying to send him home, isn’t even close.

[painless-innit-colourful]

Invisible

Potions of invisibility grant the user the ability to disappear, functionally: the concealment of one’s self through magic, distilled into a draught easy to swallow. For better and worse, Tommy’s familiar with the taste.

It tastes sour, primarily. 

Looking at the ingredient list, no wonder. Nether wart and fermented spider eye. Gross. There are some things a golden carrot just can't balance out. 

It's such a disgusting taste he doesn't notice the shimmering feeling, instead focusing his attention on scraping a thin layer of translucent brown sugar-mushroom-spider ick off his tongue. Not until: 

"Tommy?" "Y- Bleh- Yeah?" "Oh!" Tubbo waves his arms in a wild arc, smile growing, before his hand collides with Tommy's arm, and he picks up Tommy's wrist. "It worked!" "What do you- Ohhh..." 

If he blurs his vision, Tubbo's fingers circle around nothing. If he looks properly, he can just about see the edges of his wrist, the lines of his shirt sleeve. "Dude, how does that work?" "Which bit?" "Clothes. My clothes didn't drink it too." "Dude, I dunno... My turn!" 

They learn to spot the tiny signs of an invisible person. They learn to disguise them. Tommy tries to tackle Tubbo and misses completely, and both of them fall about laughing. 

Call that a drug van success story. 

--- 

He sprints past it, hoping they aren’t following, panic filling his bloodstream. He chugs the potion as he runs, drops spilling down his front, staining his navy coat with off-white shadows as he shimmers and disappears into thin air. 

Please don’t see me, please don’t see me.

He stumbles into the shallow waters of the lake, wading - disturbing the water, too many signs, you're gonna be seen - towards Tubbo's tunnel. He takes three steps and slips under the surface, landing on his hands and knees on the tunnel floor, waiting, waiting- Where are they? 

There's the sound of an arrow seeking its mark and hitting true, and for a split second Tommy sees an arm with deft fingers and a dark blue sleeve fall over the side of the entrance, and then the body is gone and shit shit shit- 

Tommy sticks his head back out- Who was that? Wilbur? Tubbo? He feels the shimmering feeling again - "a quick escape", where are the others - and slowly drops back to the tunnel floor. 

Make a decision, what if they find you, Little Laddy One Life? He walks away, opting to live to fight another day, hoping that his friends will join him soon. 

--- 

Funnily though, while clothes disappear with the potion, armour doesn't. He doesn't know why; he's not smart enough to. And right now, as he yanks the shoulder straps of his chestplate tight, he doesn't really care. 

"Stop!" They don't stop, voices mostly drowned out by the overwhelming sound of rushing water. Dream, his face also hidden, but by his signature mask as opposed to the magic of an invisibility potion, holds his hand towards Tubbo and tells him "I need the disc." Tommy crests the wreckage of the Community House, no longer attempting to stay hidden as the water thunders down around his ankles, pulling him towards the platform in the centre. It's a bizarre version of the Pit. It’s an arena. It's a stage. 

"No!" He screams, as Tubbo takes half a step back towards the ender chest. Heads snap to his position, looking at the empty suit of armour that's just appeared beside and above them. Tubbo stutters something in quiet disbelief, and between that and the sudden attention, Tommy falters. If he took off his armour now, could he get out of there? Or would the same fate that once befell Wilbur catch him? The blame for this building is on him, after all. 

He jumps in, landing on his feet between Dream and the cabinet of L'Manberg. He is caught in the crossfire of their questions: "Tommy?" "Is that Tommy?" 

He shouts, and he screams, and he revolves like a merry-go-round, trying to keep his eyes on everyone, not trusting that his armour'll be enough to protect him from the sheer amount of enemies about. So many people hate him, he realises, it's 30 v 2. Technoblade would like those odds. Technoblade, who's standing beside him, not invisible because he went to get milk. He likes the protection; he thinks. 

They don't listen. Tubbo keeps insisting he betrayed them all by teaming with Techno, that he betrayed L'Manberg, but they don't understand, he didn't have a choice, "You don't know what he did to me in exile." Tubbo has the disc in his hands, and without having an inkling of where Dream's eyes are, he watches him consider simply snatching it from Tubbo's hands. 

"You're not gonna give him the disc." Tubbo looks at him like it's a dare, and why can't he see? Tommy's practically crying with the effort and exertion of watching his best friend betray him in slow motion, of being this close to his abuser, of being blamed for something he didn't do, of being beaten down every time he gets on his damn feet. 

"I don’t need to prove myself to you. This wasn’t me. Trust me. Jesus— for once in your life, Tubbo, trust me." Tubbo's eyes are cold, his mind made up. What happened to us against the world?  "I did trust you. Once. The first time all of this happened. And I won’t make the same mistake twice." 

There's a little moment where time stops, and everyone draws nearer like a crowd at the coliseum, and Tommy feels his invisibility ripple slightly, warning him it's about to wear off. Who the fuck cares. 

Tubbo takes a step towards Dream, and Tommy lunges to put himself between them. "Don't you dare." Tubbo's hand goes to his axe. "You betrayed me, Tubbo, you- Did you just-" Both of their eyes are on Tubbo’s weapon, when he puts the disc away, staring Tommy down plainly with his one hand returning to the axe at his waist, and the other taking out his shield. "I didn't betray you." His voice is level, all business. Okay then, Mr President.

"You betrayed everything that you'd built with presidents prior." Tommy's anger, and hurt, and frustration, and pain finally boils over, so much so that it's visible in the way he shakes as he brings out his axe. "You know what?" He bites into a golden apple, feeling its effects drown out the rushing water and the shimmering sensation of his invis. "You've got your axe up." Technoblade’s tone is surprised but light as he tells Tommy to make this decision wisely, but he’s already gone, his safety and conscience be damned. He throws himself at Tubbo, brandishing his axe as the pigman taught him, like he once practised with the brown-haired boy he’s swinging at, thinking You say I betrayed you? I'll show you a traitor. 

Poetically, perhaps, it's less like a fight, and more like a dance. They are a whirlwind - a hurricane - clashing and blocking and pushing and shoving across the otherwise empty floor. Somewhere in the gushing water, Technoblade's bloodlust has seized him, and he's gone for the L'Manbergians and the festival-goers and the unrelated parties that came when they saw the destruction, and he's scattering them this way and that, but who cares about that? 

They are not equally matched. Tommy shakes too much: there is too much of him vulnerable here, not just his mortality, something that neither invisibility nor armour can keep from being scratched and damaged. He's losing. He's quite badly losing, despite Tubbo's inferior armour and weapons and allies, and he leaps into the nearest watery wall, letting the Respiration helmet Techno made for him protect him as the water drags him under and away from his attacker. His best friend. He bites into another golden apple, his pleas swallowed by the torrent. He still hears Tubbo's shout though, permeating the water and being relayed through his communicator from wherever Techno is. 

"Where are you?" 

He pops back up, shaking and soaking wet and sees a familiar sight: an old friend, a brother - once - staring him down with death in his eyes from behind brown hair. He was wrong, oh so wrong, all those weeks ago: at once he is Schlatt, alone at the end of his days, and there's Wilbur, old pals who'll be the death of each other. No. 

No. 

"I didn’t betray you, you teamed up with the very person that destroyed us the first time!" He feels his invis shimmer one more time, and the timing is immaculate, really. Cinematic, one might say. 

"I went for the discs— Tubbo, the discs— The discs were worth more than you ever were!" "No... Wh- Th-" The world stands still, and it feels so good, it's so good to finally say it, to watch Tubbo's face fall, his shield slipping from his hand, listen to the reactions around their little arena, watch as Tubbo shuts his mouth and yanks on the strap of his chestplate and lets it drop to the floor, leaving him defenceless and open to attack and wait- no- wait- 

Mutely, Tommy’s gaze drifts skyward, and it should feel good because they know now, they know how he feels, but it's not, it's not good because that- that wasn't true. That wasn't right. 

And he looks back at Tubbo, and finally, finally, his invis runs out, and he hopes it shows on his face, that he knows he's fucked up because Tubbo looks destroyed, and a shiver goes through him because he no longer looks angry he just- He just looks sad. 

He takes off his helmet, breathing heavily from the ache and exertion, heart burning in regret. 

‘The discs were worth more than you ever were.’

How do you fix that? For one crazy moment, he considers the invis again. Turning translucent and running, back to Techno- back to Technoblade who'd congratulate him on 'moving on' and tell Phil like he was proud and probably write that line on the fucking wall, how could he be such a monumental ass- 

"Tubbo?" Their eyes meet. Tubbo says nothing. 

"Give him the disc." 

He looks bewildered, "You want me to give Dream the disc?" He says, the tiniest sliver of something they used to have peeking through, the bearest hint of kindness, and bless him, it's more than Tommy deserves. It makes him want to go invisible again. 

He smiles softly, and it can't reach his eyes, but he pours every ounce of good left in him into it and desperately hopes it's enough.

"Yeah." And because he's fucked up, because he knows they can never go back from this: "I'm sorry Tubbo." 

--- 

He's done it again, he keeps fucking up. Sam's hand is holding him down by the shoulder, firm fingers digging into him, keeping him from reaching Ghostbur. 

He tried so hard. His throat is sore from not coughing. His muscles hurt from the pure tension and adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream, from his stubborn heart to the ends of his fingers and toes. He thought he'd gotten caught when he drank the potion in the waivers room, and his heart had been beating so loud that he'd thought Sam could hear it. 

Yet, they made it. But it doesn't matter, because he pulled out the axe too early, and now he's busted, and Sam's gonna kill him or Wilbur's going to come back or both, and it's all his fault. 

Every time he tries. Every time he tries to fix things, or do what's right, or have something for himself, it's taken away, destroyed and he's kicked to the ground. Every time. 

It's enough to make anyone want to be invisible.

[inspired-by-the-music]

Missing the shinee universe guys. What kind of place do you think each couple would move into first? Who would wait until they were married or engaged first? Who would live in a condo, apartment, fixer upper home? -SLA

Ahhh, shinee universe! I had every intention of revisiting the shinee universe before I dedicated my whole life to the ever-expanding For You universe, so thank you for this question! feel free to send more!

Once Aimee and I sat down to talk about this, we pumped out our answers pretty quickly. A big chunk of the delay in answering was due to the fact that I re-read the shinee universe to get the answers canonically correct, so you should probably prepare for a novel, SLA! As always, pls feel free to tell me what you think! -Ash

It’s so weird to write these answers out of order, but I decided that it would be best to do this in the order in which the members get married!

Minho

It’s already established that Minho is total husband material, so it’s probably not shocking that he’s the first in this bunch to get married

Minho and his significant other don’t move in together until wedding plans are underway

They move into a house that isn’t technically in the city, but everything is still accessible on the frequent occasion that Minho wants to take his lady out on a date 

Minho encourages his fiancee to make all of the fun decisions about decorations for the wedding and for the house while he deals with what he considers “boring adult stuff”

Although he tries his best not to show it, Minho gets so stressed from all the planning that he decides within himself that he’s NEVER moving again

So he picks a house that has every feature anyone could ever need. He even thinks ahead to make room for any future children. 

All in all, Minho wants to settle into comfortable domestic happiness with the person he loves. Obviously, he’ll still be fun and competitive and exciting, but he doesn’t try to prove that by moving into a new, bigger, fancier house every other year or by making constant home improvements

Plus, he’s a little too busy helping Jinki to start his own projects

Jonghyun

Canonically, Jonghyun and his girlfriend live together in an apartment before they’re married

Although he is the second to get married, he wasn’t in any particular rush to propose until a few years into the relationship when his gf marries off the main characters in her newest best-selling novel

She had never written about a wedding before! Knowing that writing is where she explores her dreams, Jonghyun immediately goes into town to buy a ring after finishing the book. 

(He left in such a hurry, in fact, that he left the book on the park bench. His heart dropped until he found it still sitting where he left it, guarded by a kind old lady who was feeding the birds)

He’s a pretty creative guy himself, so he doesn’t exactly copy the proposal from the novel or from any movies or dramas. 

Very little changes in their daily lives after marriage since they were practically living as a married couple soon after their first hello. 

The wedding rings aren’t the first matching rings Jonghyun and his girl wear to express their love, but there is something special about them that even Jonghyun can’t express in any song-- something that his wife can’t describe in any book

Onew

Jinki is shook because his girlfriend brings up marriage first

His response id delayed not because he’s afraid of commitment but because, “Wow, I didn’t think I’d ever get this far in dating!”

Then, he laughs as he reminds her about their catastrophic iconic first date, and she laughs too, and somehow it’s decided that this is an adequate proposal. 

Jinki still buys her an engagement ring because “She deserves it!” It’s probably blue and beautiful. 

On one of his days off, Jinki gets lost in one of those home renovation marathons on tv, and decides, “I can do that!”

He realizes very quickly that he cannot do that, but he’s already bought a new house that’s in desperate need of renovations so he can’t turn back

Minho and Taemin are the only people who respond to his SOS texts. Place your bets on who steps up to build that house from the ground up!

Onew and Taemin aren’t entirely useless. Onew helps with some heavy lifting, and Taemin. . . well, he makes good playlists, and his awestruck stares fuel Minho’s superhuman strength

Onew has a distorted sense of his contribution to the construction of his house. He brags to everyone, “I built my home with my own to hands!” 

And he also constantly tackles home improvement goals that would never be accomplished without Minho’s help. 

Taemin

While Taemin is one of those “live in the moment” people, he’s also one who believes in destiny. It was never a matter of if he would get married to his girlfriend; it was a matter of when. 

Never truly afraid or embarrassed, Taemin told her outright very early in their relationship, “I’ll marry you one day-- when we’re al grown up!” He meant it, and she knew it. Neither of them is rushing to grow up, though. 

In the meantime, they enjoy each other’s company. They don’t technically live together, but she stays at Taemin’s apartment most of the time because his balcony provides the best sight of the moon and stars she has ever seen

Their favorite pastime is pestering his group members. 

Because Minho is her brother, he is the first target. Uninvited, they invaded his kitchen one morning, knowing well that neither of them knew how to cook to save their lives. Minho would have scolded them then and there when he barrelled down the stairs in his pajamas, expecting to find a burglar, had his wife not smiled so fondly at their effort to play house

Next came Jonghyun, but he wasn’t a satisfying target for any pranky because he always welcomes Taemin and his girlfriend with open arms. He even invites them to spend the night on the pull out sofa in the living room. His hospitality sends them onto the next victim. 

If anything, though, they are Jinki’s victim. When he isn’t insisting on giving them a tour of the house he built with his own two hands-- the house Taemin watched Minho build-- or forcing them to watch home renovation marathons, Jinki asks them with a broad smile, “So, when are you two gonna get married and make me a grandpa?”

Key is the only satisfying target. Taemin and his girl were able to spend an entire weekend in Key’s attic undetected!

“What’s making that noise up there?” Key’s girlfriend asked on the literal day that she moved in.

Key joked, “It’s the demon!”

Determined to prove Key wrong (or right by terrorizing everyone), Taemin stomped on the floor and screamed, “I’m not a demon!”

Suffice it to say that Taemin is lucky to see his wedding day after the beating scolding he received from Key

Key

Key doesn’t really plan to get married. He’s not opposed or anything, but he would only do it after a series of serious conversations with his significant other

He’s not one to judge, but he feels like most people rush in their relationships, and he’s not really about that life. Lowkey thinks Jonghyun is a maniac for moving in with his gf just a month into dating but anyway

His house isn’t a mansion or anything, but it’s obviously too big for just one or two people. He likes to live lavishly. His bathroom is practically a personal spa. 

The first time she visits, his girlfriend thinks he’s kinda weird for living in such a big place without a roommate, but she hides that behind compliments about the interior design or something. 

Key is the least likely to fantasize about living with his significant other. Like, no offense, but his house is his sanctuary. He likes having his own space. Also, he’s kinda particular about his living habits(and he doesn’t really want to share any of his closet space). 

Key only invites his girlfriend to live with him after they’ve been together long enough for him to decide that they can live together in harmony

This is somewhat unrelated, but I imagine that Key hired a housekeeper for a while, but he’s that kind of person who always went through the rooms to reorganize/clean things to his own (admittedly high) standard. So one day he wakes up like “What am I paying this person for?”

Key likes to complain and get under his gf’s skin, so she’s probably not counting the days until she gets to move in either tbh

They definitely 100% bicker the most out of all the couples, but that’s just how they communicate. They make up for their many petty arguments through the week with frequent ‘self-care’ nights wherein they watch dramas while wearing mud masks and sipping wine. 

[beatriceeagle]

no pressure if you're busy but i was wondering - is titans good? or is it more a show where you're like it's not /good/ but i like it? i thought it looked interesting but then everyone was so negative about it i kind of got put off. And then your (really excellent btw) video resparked why i thought it'd be interesting to watch in the first place. thanks!

I haven’t paid a ton of attention to what fans have said about Titans, although I’m aware that there’s a general negative vibe around it. I suspect that whether Titans is worth watching for you depends a whole lot on what you want out of Titans.

I went into the show having never read a DC comic in my life. I was coming off of a week-long Wikipedia binge on Batman and his associated characters—the Robins, the Batgirls, some dude named Signal—and was talking to @thirdblindmouse about how it had become overwhelmingly clear to me that we’ve been doing Batman all wrong for decades, and the way to tell the story is as an ensemble family drama about intergenerational trauma. And she was like, “Uh, have you seen Titans?” So all of my pre-existing understanding of the characters comes from Google and selected comics scans.

I suspect that the show’s interpretation of Dick Grayson, in particular, is... skewed? I’m almost certain, based on scans of comics I’ve seen/the half a season of Teen Titans I watched a lifetime ago, that its interpretation of Starfire is highly nontraditional. There are certain storylines that I know they’re adapting, but like, they are playing very loose with the adaptation of even some of the characters’ basic personalities. (I’m pretty sure—again, not really a DC comics fan!)

So if you’re very committed to a generally cheerful Dick Grayson, Titans will not give you that. If you have a vision of Batman as a generally decent man, Titans will really not give you that. In general, I think that the show would be better if it erred more towards a lighter tone for Dick—there are moments where he has shades of Quentin in season three of The Magicians, when Q was kind of endearingly hapless, and the show is better for it. But I think it earns its ambivalent stance on Batman, and uses it well. Batman in Titans looks and acts like your dad whose office you’re not allowed into. And Titans!Starfire is really amazing. Like, Anna-Diop-is-a-revelation, fuck-now-you’ve-got-me-shipping-against-my-will amazing.

The bigger issue that Titans has—and this is not unrelated to Dick’s characterization, I guess—is its relationship with violence. Titans is a really violent show, especially in its first season, and it’s off-putting. Pretty much every superhero show involves the heroes beating up bad guys; not every superhero show involves the protagonist mutilating someone in the course of a fight.

This is not unthinking hyperviolence. Titans (which is actually annoyingly pretty good about tracking character through action sequences) is trying to make a point: The compounding traumas of Dick’s childhood resulted in an explosion of rage. Batman funneled his anger into Dick; Dick funnels his anger into whatever bad guy he’s fighting. The show isn’t subtle about this idea. Dick says it out loud several times. Nor (after the first fight) does the show endorse Dick’s over-the-top violence. Everyone from Donna Troy to Dick himself remarks on it with, at minimum, concern. And over time, Dick’s fighting style changes; he consciously leaves the hyperviolence behind, until his final fight of season two is primarily evasive.

But Dick is not the only Titans character who is working out his rage on the criminals he apprehends, and the show is considerably less coherent in its tonal approach to other characters’ violence. Hank and Dawn—the masked hero team Hawk and Dove—have an origin story that plays out like the the backstory of a serial killer couple, their interlocking trauma and rage and grief finding expression and acceptance in each other. The show is aware of the dynamic, but it’s not clear that it’s aware of how disturbing it is. Hank and Dawn are, primarily, people who need to cause violence in order to be at peace in their own heads—and only secondarily, people who want to protect others from danger. Season two does do some work exploring this idea, but the exploration is confused by the fact that, in the end, the show wants both of them on the cast.

Which is kind of the problem with any superhero show that sets out to explore the ethics of superheroism—at the end of the day, the characters aren’t gonna retire to Wisconsin, you know? So Titans presents hyperviolence, presents it as problematic (sometimes), presents it as almost an inevitable consequence of traumatized teenagers deciding to pursue vigilante justice... and then builds a superhero team of traumatized teenagers and young adults. As is its basic conceit.

And on a more fundamental level, the hyperviolence just sort of makes the show feel very grim. It’s already an aesthetically dark show, a lot of the time, and then you’ve got people getting mutilated, and Batman’s an asshole and Dick Grayson’s got anger management issues, and it feels like the show’s grimdark. 

I don’t think it is, though. First of all, despite everything, Titans actually has a sense of humor, both in general and occasionally about itself—I mean, it’s not Legends of Tomorrow, but it understands how to crack a smile every now and then. (They have a superdog. He shoots lasers out of his eyes!) But more importantly, at the end of the day, Titans is hopeful. Yeah, it’s a show about anger and violence and intergenerational trauma—but it’s more specifically about moving beyond those things. At its heart, it’s about being a better parent to your children than your parents were to you.

That central relationship between Dick and Rachel—Dick trying, and sometimes failing, but always caring and trying to be better for Rachel, and Rachel’s absolute fury with him when he fails, but her unshakeable devotion to him for being there, the unbelievable amount of sway he holds in her world—that’s what makes the show work for me. There are other vital relationships, too—Rachel and Kory, especially, but also all of the pseudo-familial relationships built up between all of the characters—but it all comes back to Dick and Rachel.

I mean, it’s a found family show. So much so that in season two, there are like, three separate speeches about how this is a family, not one of those stupid biological families, but a family we found, and isn’t that the important kind? And how grimdark can a found family show really be?

The other thing that might throw some people off—but which is actually one of my favorite things about the show—is the structure. If you take a look at the Titans episode list, you’ll see that roughly 75 percent of the episodes are named after a character or characters. Season one of Titans is basically about Dick, Starfire, Gar, and Rachel (Raven from the comics) traveling the midwest, picking up the people who will eventually form the main Titans team. When they encounter those people, they get a spotlight episode. So in episode two, “Hawk and Dove,” when Dick and Rachel lay low at Hank and Dawn’s, the episode starts out with an extended cold open, entirely disconnected from the main characters, just introducing us to Hank and Dawn as characters. Episode eight, “Donna Troy,” sees Dick go to visit his old friend Donna in Milwaukee, and... basically just hang out with her for half the episode, while the rest of the cast does plot stuff. Occasionally, these spotlight episodes stop the plot completely: Towards the end of season one, an episode ends on a cliffhanger. the next episode, rather than showing the outcome of the cliffhanger, is “Hank and Dawn,” an episode that flashes back to show the story of how Hank and Dawn met and became masked heroes. (There’s an in-episode device that eventually makes it clear why this story is related to the cliffhanger.) Season two uses the cliffhanger-into-a-flashback-spotlight-episode structure two more times, once with a character we’ve never met before.

I can see this being deeply frustrating to a viewer watching week-by-week (and I would not recommend watching Titans in that manner). And it’s certainly an unconventional way to structure a season of television. But honestly? I think it’s half of what I like about the show. The spotlight and flashback episodes are good—often some of the best the show’s produced. They don’t stop the plot for no reason; in season two, in particular, they provide context and backstory and characterization in a way that would be almost impossible to do, or to do so well, without the space of a full episode. They make the show more episodic than it would otherwise be—always a joy, in a television landscape full of 10-hour movies—and give it space to experiment with tone and genre. They make the characters richer, and the relationships more complex.

Does it slow down the plot? Absolutely. But Titans is not overflowing with complex plot, and I don’t really think it should try to. The plot of Titans hangs together juuuuuuuust enough to make the themes and characters and relationships work. It’s coherent—we’re not talking Teen Wolf, here—but it’s not brilliant, and honestly, that’s fine by me. But I suppose if you want your plot to be really good, this may not be the show for you.

Finally, I’ll say that Titans, though not what I would call a feminist show (it has a primarily male writing staff and I think it shows) does have a kind of surprisingly large female cast? I wanna say it’s five men, five women, by the end of season two? (Yeah, it’s a fucking enormous cast.) And the women have actual relationships with each other, ones that the show puts some effort into maintaining and remembering. I realize this is damning with faint praise, but honestly I’d just expected a show like Titans to not do that, and was prepared to ignore it, and was kind of pleasantly surprised when I didn’t have to.

In summary: I told my sister that Titans is 10% men in spandex standing on cars, 30% team as family, 30% intergenerational trauma, 20% an uncomfortable relationship with is own hyperviolence, and 10% Krypto the Superdog. I think that tracks. That show, despite having Anna Diop’s glowing presence, has a lot of flaws, but it also really worked for me on some soul-deep level. I am exactly on its wavelength.

I do not think that Titans is a fantastic television show, but I also don’t think it’s a very bad one. I think it’s generally competent show that is very interesting in some aspects, is weak in some areas, falls prey to some inherent trappings of its genre, is thoughtful about familial trauma, is not thoughtful enough about violence and criminal justice, has a lot of very compelling performances, is really poorly lit a lot of the time, pays a lot of attention to its visual language, kind of thinks Batman’s an asshole, and has Krypto the Superdog. It really worked for me; I can see why others might not be into it; it might work for you!

[studentsofshield]

A Rambling Chronicle of Marvel’s Western Comics

By Vincent Faust - November 27, 2018

Marvel Comics is the most prolific comic book publisher of the Western genre. Despite their near ubiquity in today’s culture with billion dollar box office receipts, even their diehard fans may not know this part of their past.

I may be missing a few scattered things, but by my count Marvel has published 1,192 issues of Western comics through their history. Marvel had published Western stories from their very beginnings with the Masked Raider in 1939′s Marvel (Mystery) Comics 1-12. Though the genre didn't explode until the late 1940s following the war, while superheroes were declining. Timely (Marvel’s name at the time) launched 7 western titles in 1948. 

The "Big Three" of Marvel westerns are Kid Colt Outlaw, Rawhide Kid, and Two-Gun Kid. Each lasting an impressive 229, 151, and 136 issues respectively. 

The star artist of Kid Colt was Jack Keller. Who drew most of the character's stories from 1953-1967. An impressive run. Some have argued he has the honor of drawing the most individual stories for one specific Marvel character. Many of these books had 3-5 short stories per issue, so I wouldn't argue against that. If we only count full issue stories, I'm not sure who would take that title. Probably Mark Bagley for Spider-Man, combining his lengthy 1990s run on Amazing and his history making 2000s run with Bendis on Ultimate.

In 1960, right before the Fantastic Four, Stan Lee and Jack Kirby reinvented Rawhide Kid. After a publishing hiatus the title was brought back with issue 17. The character was now Jonathan Clay and his costume changed. Over two and a half years, their run was revered as the cream of the crop in a waning genre as their own superheroes began to explode. 

As Kirby was needed more and more on the superhero titles selling like hotcakes, a tiny run by Jack Davis followed. Davis was an EC Comics legend who took a pit stop at Marvel before becoming even more of a legend at Mad Magazine. Unfortunately, practically the only classic Marvel Westerns to be reprinted in collections is this span of Rawhide Kid. With issues 17-35 reprinted across two hardcover Marvel Masterworks.

Here is Stan Lee talking to Jack Davis and fellow EC/Mad/minor Marvel contributor Harvey Kurtzman. For Marvel, the legendary Kurtzman did 150 episodes of a one-page filler strip titled Hey Look! from 1946 to 1949. 

Especially as Marvel was finally able to publish more titles, Stan Lee's efforts were being stretched too thin as well. So, Rawhide Kid was handed over to his younger brother Larry Lieber to write and draw. Which he did for almost a decade, to minor acclaim from genre fans. Sounds very reminiscent of the hidden gem Gary Friedrich/Dick Ayers/John Severin run on Sgt. Fury and His Howling Commandos.

"I don't remember why I wanted to do it, particularly. I think I wanted a little more freedom. I didn't do enough of the superheroes to know whether I'd like them. What I didn't prefer was the style that was developing. It didn't appeal to me. Maybe there was just too much humor in it, or too much something. I remember, at the time, I wanted to make everything serious. I didn't want to give a light tone to it. When I did Rawhide Kid, I wanted people to cry as if they were watching High Noon or something." - Larry Lieber

Lee and Kirby also reinvented Two-Gun Kid for the early 60s, but didn't stick around as long on that one.

Other artists who made a mark on Marvel's western titles include Fred Kida, a notable Golden Age Japanese-American artist known primarily for Airboy. Also Russ Heath, who passed away only recently, and the frequent collaborators John Severin and Dick Ayers. Most of these artists were also prolific in the war genre. The genre is also to thank for the introduction of Herb Trimpe, who would go on to become the definitive Hulk artist.

The true star of the show though was one Joe Maneely. Who Stan considered his best artist before Jack Kirby returned in 1958. The Philadelphia native was skilled and fast, pumping out tons of westerns as well as the Black Knight and Yellow Claw titles, which retroactively tie his work to Marvel continuity. Unlike Kirby, Keller, and Lieber he was not particularly linked to one western title, but his most consistent would be Ringo Kid.

Meanwhile, outside of the genre one of Stan Lee's other top artists was Matt Baker. Considered to be the first African American professional in the field. Also there are reliable reports from friends and family that Baker may have been a gay man. He was one of the primary innovators of the "good girl" art style on Fox Feature Syndicate’s Phantom Lady and countless romance titles. Another milestone was drawing arguably the first graphic novel - It Rhymes with Lust.

Due to some business factors in and out of publisher Martin Goodman’s control, Marvel (at this point known as Atlas Comics) nearly imploded in 1957. The bullpen was completely disbanded, leaving Stan Lee in an empty office. They went from regularly publishing almost 70 titles to only 16. Many of which were filled with inventory stories and reprints as long as Stan could manage not paying freelancers. This situation was further complicated by their new distributor having way too close of a relationship with market share leader National (now DC Comics).

Joe Maneely stepped in front of a train in 1958 at only the age of 32. It may have been a suicide. Matt Baker died of a heart attack in 1959 at 37. As stated above, Jack Kirby comes back to Marvel right around that time and Steve Ditko was quickly growing as an artist. It's tragic how close these two masters were to being on the ground floor of the Marvel Universe as we know it today. What heroes could Maneely and Baker have drawn or created?

The 1970s sees lots of reprints of classic genre comics. An exception is the original title Gunhawks (though an unrelated The Gunhawk title predated it). Though only lasting seven issues, Gunhawks has an interesting distinction. Originally starring Kid Cassidy and Reno Jones, a good ol’ plantation boy and his buddy slave. Who fought willingly for the Confederacy because some Yankees kidnapped his girlfriend. That makes sense... In the sixth issue, Cassidy is shot and killed. The finale was technically retitled to Reno Jones, Gunhawk. Making that 1973 comic book only the second at Marvel to be named after a Black protagonist, following Luke Cage. Black Panther had ongoing adventures, but had taken over the anthology title Jungle Action and wouldn’t get his own series until later. DC lagged behind Marvel in this regard.

In 1979 the western genre at Marvel was basically declared dead, with Rawhide Kid and Kid Colt finally canceled. The latter after over 30 years of continuous publication. Two Gun Kid had been canceled two years earlier. Though for a few years already, almost all of Marvel's westerns (and war books) had been turned into reprint titles.

Of those aforementioned 1,192 issues, 1,146 of them are from 1979 or earlier. Leaving less than 50 across the last 40 years.

A 1980 tryout issue with a new character (and a Frank Miller cover) goes nowhere.

A 1985 miniseries by genre veterans Trimpe and Severin depicts the Rawhide Kid now as a middle aged man, as the West is in its final days. It is kind of depressing.

Backpedaling a bit. As the Marvel superheroes dominate, the western heroes occasionally make crazy guest appearances through the means of time travel. Most notably the Two-Gun Kid becomes an all-but-official member of the Avengers and a close friend of Hawkeye. He gets tied up with time travel generally for years to follow. Later becoming a She-Hulk supporting character and Avengers Initiative leader circa Civil War

With that cover, let's now take another aside to untangle Ghost Rider. Ghost Rider is not originally a Marvel property. The vigilante was created by Gardner Fox (Justice League of America) and Dick Ayers for Magazine Enterprises in 1949 as a horror themed western character. The feature spent time as a backup in Tim Holt and eventually broke out into its own short lived title.

Magazine Enterprises went kapoof alongside the slump in the industry around the implementation of the Comics Code Authority in 1954. The regulation agency set up by industry leaders to avoid government intrusion following moral panic. The over-cautious guidelines severely neutered the crime and horror genres, while superheroes were already dormant, gutting many publishers. The Ghost Rider trademark expired. Marvel picked it up in 1967 for a series drawn by original creator Dick Ayers. Motivated in equal toxic parts by Martin Goodman's obsession with securing trademarks (practically every character Stan Lee created can be traced to an earlier one) and then rising writer Roy Thomas's history nerd leanings.

Obviously the name would be repurposed for the more recognizable Johnny Blaze in 1972. Marvel retroactively renamed Carter Slade as the Phantom Rider. The modern demonic versions of Ghost Rider do rarely touch on western themes. Johnny spent some time as a nomad and Garth Ennis brought in some western connections to expand the GR lore.

The western genre is basically passed over through the whole 1990s.

In 2000, John Ostrander and Leonardo Manco come around for a miniseries integrating all the Marvel western heroes together. Followed by a 2002 sequel. With revelations and deaths. The kind of lore retconning series that tickles the fancy of comic history nerds like yours truly. Ostrander also did Justice League: Incarnations around this time, tracing through the history of the JLA.

2003 comes around and it all that heavy lifting revitalization goes in the toilet. Ron Zimmerman writes a Marvel Max Rawhide Kid series. Zimmerman is some kind of comedy writer and Howard Stern regular. Well, within comics he wrote this and the god awful Ultimate Adventures - the only wholly original Ultimate Universe book, a Batman and Robin parody that was part of the U-Decide bet with Marville and PAD's Captain Marvel.

Marvel Max was a new imprint established in the early 2000s to break away from the aforementioned Comics Code and tell more daring, mature stories. Occasionally this resulted in gold like Jessica Jones. However, most of the time it was cringe inducing dreck.

So what's so bad about Rawhide Kid Max? He's now gay. Umm...OK, as long as it's handled well, maybe? Nope, constant cringey sexual innuendos which border on the protagonist coming off as a sexual predator. Some idiot gave it a sequel years later too.

Since then, we've gotten a bunch of one-shots in 2006, a weird Andy Diggle miniseries in 2012, and then the surprisingly great Marvel 1872 from Gerry Duggan during the patchwork reality crossover event Secret Wars. Which set up the Red Wolf series which was doomed by bad optics surrounding the writer and Marvel's spaghetti on the wall strategy of the time.

One of those 2006 one-shots ended up being legend Marshall Rogers's final published work. He and longtime collaborator Steve Englehart did it while waiting for DC to greenlight Dark Detective III, the second spiritual sequel to their influential 1970s run on Batman.

Here’s hoping we get to see some of these legendary heroes on the trail once more. At the very least we will get another tiny snippet in 2019 with a Gunhawks one-shot being brought back in celebration of Marvel’s 80th anniversary. Written by crime comics duo David and Maria Lapham.

This concludes a rambling chronicle of Marvel's history with the western genre and considerable tangents touching more generally on the history of Marvel and the comic book industry.

[orbemnews]

The Coronavirus Crossroads: the Vaccinated, the Stymied and the Waiting For a vast majority of Americans, a coronavirus vaccine is like sleep for a new parent: It’s all you can think about, even if you have no idea when you will get it. People are scrolling through perpetually crashing websites at 3 a.m., or driving 150 miles each way in the snow. Others are lining up at grocery stores for hours on end, hoping to snag a leftover shot, or racing to hospitals amid rumors of extra doses. Many more are tossing in bed in the dark, praying that tomorrow will be their mother’s lucky day. A small portion — about 11 percent — have received one or two shots of the vaccine, leaving the nation in a medical and cultural interregnum. Some of those with only one shot are in a precarious limbo, in states snarled over second-dose distribution. Byzantine rules setting up tiers of the eligible mean most will be holding their collective breath for months down the road, as another set moves gingerly toward the restoration of their lives on the other side of the divide. “I’ve been struck with the outpouring of grief and loss that the obstacles to getting the vaccine has generated,” said Niti Seth, 73, a psychologist and department dean at Cambridge College in Boston. She has been unable to get a vaccine appointment, despite spending all hours of the day and night online reading and clicking. “A glimpse of the possibilities of reclaiming our lives has led, paradoxically, to a more palpable sense of what we had to give up,” Ms. Seth said. Debates over masks, indoor eating, testing availability and school reopenings all now center on a single axis: the lagging rollout of the vaccine. It is the alchemy of “unrelenting waves of exhaustion, fear, hope, uncertainty and pandemic fatigue,” said Lindsey Leininger, a health policy researcher and a clinical professor at the Tuck School of Business at Dartmouth in Hanover, N.H. “I stay focused on the lotus mud metaphor and think about how gosh-darned beautiful we are all going to be when we come out the other side.” Still, although cases and hospitalizations continue to decline, and as the pace of vaccinations picks up, some Americans — including those now vaccinated and ostensibly protected — are approaching the spring and summer with quite a bit of trepidation. The divide is still quite wide between the haves and the have-nots, and many fear that even a vaccinated nation and world won’t restore a sense of safety or security. Weeks into the rollout, there are stories of heroism, supreme luck and perseverance, and those of ignominy, and widespread inequality. Some post their injections and vaccination cards on social media, while their friends and neighbors contemplate a spring of double masking, a tool in the race between vaccines and the new, more contagious variants of the virus snaking their way across the nation. The Nextdoor website has become an outpost for sightings of vaccination sites, as neighbors rush to refresh their browsers. There are tales of resentment and stories of guilt. Marsha Henderson has become a bit of a shot whisperer with her friends in Washington D.C., after securing doses for herself, her husband and their 40-year-old daughter who works in health care. Many of the sites on the city’s websites turned out to not have any vaccines, so she realized she needed to only check times for grocery stores. She gamed out times to recheck. “You have to have the ability to be on a computer in the middle of the day and sit there,” said Mrs. Henderson, who is 71. She became so good at it, an ambassador’s wife called her for tips. Still, she said, her second shot on Wednesday,“won’t change my behavior.” “I am more comfortable with the Comcast man to fix my computer, and there is some rain damage I need to get fixed,” she said. “But I will be doing carry out and outdoor dining probable for another year, in part because we don’t know the variants.” In New York, Jamie Anderson emailed a nonprofit group in northern Manhattan on behalf of her father, Jimmy Mattias, who is 66. “The nonprofit called me on Tuesday to get his details,” said Ms. Anderson, who lives in the Bronx, not far from her father in Washington Heights in Manhattan. “He was called on Wednesday to confirm an appointment, and Thursday morning he had his first dose. It was so fast, I truly couldn’t believe it.” Mr. Mattias, who works as a manager at a storage center, said extra efforts had been made to vaccinate people his age, but he had no intention of making the effort on his own because he feared missing work. “She’s my daughter, and she is looking out for me,” he said. His co-workers and bosses are all younger, jealous yet thrilled for him, while friends his age are skeptical. “Some don’t think the system was designed to create a vaccine that quickly,” he said. “I tell them this is not the 1800s, things happen faster. Let’s face the facts, this is a horrible situation.” Catherine Sharp, a freelance photographer in Brooklyn, like many New Yorkers, has had less luck. Ms. Sharp, 26, relocated to Illinois recently to help her parents, a relocation that has developed into a part-time job trying to get shots for her father, 67, who has been living in Katonah, N.Y., and her mother, 65, in Morris, Ill. “It was like a sneaker drop,” she said. “You are not going to get the Off-White sneakers. It’s just impossible.” As she waited, both she and her mother contracted the virus, and her mother, a cancer survivor, was hospitalized. “This is my worst nightmare,” Ms. Sharp said. “I know some of my mom’s friends have gotten it. I just don’t understand the algorithm. A good 40 percent of my time is spent on this. I wake up, I get my coffee and say, “I gotta do this.’” For a few of those at the back of the line — largely younger, healthier people who are working from home — luck and perseverance can pay off in a split-second, sometimes with a side of guilt. Darla Rhodes lives in Pasco, Wash., is 47 and works remotely for a start-up. Even though she has diabetes, she did not think she would be getting a vaccine anytime soon. But when the assisted living center where her grandmother lives offered vaccines to residents, and some of them refused them, the vaccinators had 30 minutes to get those shots in people’s arms or supplies would perish. Her sister, who happened to be dropping off groceries for their grandmother, got the ball rolling. Ms. Rhodes likened the sudden access to flying standby. “It was utterly unexpected,” Ms. Rhodes said. “But I jumped in the car, drove 15 minutes, filled out some paperwork and got a shot.” After posting about her experience on Facebook, she said, “One person said, ‘Hey I can’t even get a shot for my grandma,’ and my response was it was either that or it goes to waste.” Doug Heye, a Republican consultant in Washington, D.C., had heard about the trick of lining up at grocery stores, in the hopes of getting any remaining doses that were not used for residents given high priority, like those ages 65 and older, or frontline and essential workers. “The more needles we get into arms, the faster we can move past this,” Mr. Heye, 48, said. “That applied to me, personally, as well.” So he recently positioned himself at his local Giant supermarket at 5:15 a.m., where he found himself second in line in the pharmacy section. “I spent nine hours in a grocery store. Lunch was beef jerky and barbecue potato chips. It is too bad they don’t have the vaccine at Whole Foods or Balducci. It was like camping out for Bryan Adams tickets back in the day, and there’s no V.I.P. line or anything like that.” At the end of a long day staring into other people’s grocery carts, he and four others drew the last doses. “Obviously, it’s a flawed process, and there can and should be better ways of doing this like letting seniors register for any extra doses first, for instance,” he said. “But that’s just not happening. I wasn’t cutting in a line, no V.I.P. concierge nonsense, didn’t call in any favors.” Mr. Heye said he was considering how to get his life back, scanning Facebook for friends who had received their two shots so that they could resume some semblance of a social life. Those with two shots — just over 2 percent of the total population as of Sunday — at this point essentially live alone on private islands. Some may be in professions like health care where many of their co-workers are also inoculated. Others are in a sort of suspended animation, more comfortable at a grocery store or hugging a grandchild, yet still waiting for the rest of the nation before they swim ashore. “I feel very fortunate to have already received both doses of the Moderna vaccine,” said Pamela Spann, 68, who lives in Daingerfield, Texas. When the only pharmacy in her county offered shots in the last week of December, she was first told that she was too young to get the first dose. But a clerk did write down her name in a notebook. “I was so surprised when I was called that evening for an appointment the next day,” Ms. Spann said. She received a second dose on Jan. 26. Having missed out on her first year of retirement travel, Ms. Spann is waiting for others in her circle to get shots. “I am most looking forward to visiting my family again,” she said. “I also look forward to visiting and playing games with friends.” Still, she and many others who have been vaccinated or developed antibodies by contracting the virus feel a sense of trepidation. “I think life will never be as carefree as life before,” Ms. Spann said. “I will be more aware of new viruses throughout the world and what they might mean to me.” Mr. Mattias, of New York, described himself as a loner who, because he worked every day, said he hadn’t felt that deprived over the past year, beyond missing a trip with his wife to a Cracker Barrel restaurant on their annual vacation in Pennsylvania. “I am looking forward to spending time with my grandkids, walking my dog and not having to cross the street so people don’t have to walk away from me first,” Mr. Mattias said. “My mother is 89 years old, I haven’t hugged in a while, so that’s another one. Really, my whole life is little things. I am counting on getting them back.” Source link Orbem News #coronavirus #Crossroads #Stymied #vaccinated #Waiting

[aethersea]

How about Toff and the fathers of Lin and Suyin?

Send me a character and I’ll write 10 headcanons for them! Or a lengthy not-fic about what happens to them after canon, I guess that works too, brain, thanks ever so for your contribution.

So I… haven’t actually watched Korra yet. I kept meaning to, and it just never happened. Oops. How about some Toph headcanons that are completely unrelated to anything from LoK? Most of them under the cut bc this got away from me in a BIG way.

Toph used to dream about telling her parents she was the best bender in Gaoling. That was why she started joining underground bending tournaments, actually: so she could show them her champion belt and say, See? See how much your daughter can do? 

That’s not actually why she joined the tournaments. She knew from the beginning that it would never work. She just wanted to feel, for a little while, the freedom and strength she had felt with the badger moles. After every tournament, she’d tell herself, One more. One more, and then I’ll tell them. One more, and it’ll be enough.

Toph wasn’t surprised by her parents’ reaction to her bending. She was furious, she was heartbroken, but she wasn’t surprised.

Toph loves junk food. (We all know this in our hearts.) As a daughter of the house of Bei Fong, she’d never had a potato chip in her life, and the first time they have some time to kill at a street market, Toph makes Aang take her round to every fast food stall in the place and buy her one of everything. She feels queasy and uncomfortable the rest of the day, but she refuses to regret it. (Sokka nearly faints when he hears how much money they’ve spent, and Toph regrets that a bit.)

She discovers that she really likes Fire Nation cuisine in general, with its tendency toward dramatic use of spices. They buy a kebab or something at a Fire Nation village, and it sets Toph’s entire mouth on fire. She falls instantly in love.

“It’s food that hates you, Katara! I’ve been punched in the face by a kebab!”

After the war, she decides she wants to learn how to cook. If you ask Toph how it went, she picked up a valuable skill. If you ask any of the string of harried chefs she leaves in her wake, they will turn very pale and beg you never to bring her back. It’s not that she isn’t enthusiastic to learn, and the blindness isn’t even that much of a hindrance because there’s a lot you can tell about your ingredients from smell and touch alone. But Toph’s very proud of her new metalbending abilities, and she practices at every opportunity. Do you know how much metal is in a kitchen, these chefs will ask you. Do you know how much damage that metal can do when it’s flying through the air into the hands of a young girl who wants to show you how fast she can whisk this egg. Do you know what she did to the stove.

Toph is really uncomfortable around Suki. You know those girls who are charming and smart and effortlessly graceful, a couple years older than you and always so kind, warm and friendly and infinitely cool, like the badass older sister you always dreamed of having? That’s Suki. Toph only knows how to be elegant in the context of high-society parties, and no matter how badass a fighter she knows she is, she has never in her life been effortlessly cool. She never knows how to talk to Suki about anything other than fighting. Suki thinks Toph just doesn’t like her much, and gives Toph her space. Toph absolutely hates this, but she doesn’t know how to fix it.

Taking down a fleet of war blimps together helps a little.

A lot of people want to learn bending from Toph after the war – metalbending, especially, but also earthbending in general. This twelve-year-old girl is one of the best earthbenders in the entire world, after all. She has people showing up every day, begging for the privilege of being her student. At first she’s pretty into the idea – she taught the Avatar, and he saved the world with it. Clearly she’s a fantastic teacher. She holds auditions and takes the most dedicated, the most impressive. She starts teaching them.

It’s awful. She hates it. Turns out teaching Aang how to understand the earth is very, very different from teaching a bunch of people more than twice her age how to stand, how to move their arms, how to breathe. She’d never realized before how much of bending was instinctual for Aang – he’s the Avatar, he’s not learning bending so much as remembering it from a past life. She’d never realized, either, how much of bending was instinctual for her. She struggles to explain how she moves to make the earth do what she wants, or how her students should move to do the same. More than one lesson ends with Toph getting so frustrated that she stomps her feet hard enough to knock over a wall, then storms off before she can cry actual tears of rage in front of these people.

She closes the school after a month. People keep showing up, though, asking her to teach them. She’s equal parts angry and ashamed every time she turns them away. She’d thought this was something she could do.

(Later, when she is older and more confident, when she’s had long conversations with benders who’ve been perfecting their craft for decades, she tries again. She finds a few promising students – young this time, almost as young as she is – and shows them how to feel the earth. She tells them to close their eyes and doesn’t worry if it means she’s forcing them to ignore their most important sense. She dumps mud on them and tells them to feel every speck of it on their skin, and get it off with nothing but bending. She tells them to move their hands and feet however feels right, so long as they’re strong and in tune with the earth. In short, she doesn’t bother adhering to any rules about how you’re supposed to teach bending.

This time, people leave her school with confidence and skill. Toph takes on more and more students. The best ones learn how to metalbend. Toph watches with her feet as her students learn how to listen to the earth, and finds that she’s proud of them. It’s a warm glow in her chest, and it never leaves her, the rest of her life.)

She leaves, to avoid the constant barrage of would-be students, and goes to stay with Sokka for a bit. He’s at the Fire Nation’s premier engineering university, and he has a huge apartment that the city gave him. (All of them get gifts wherever they go, these days. Some of them are more comfortable about this than others. Sokka never seems to mind it at all.) There’s more than enough room for Toph to move in with him, and he’s happy to have her. Every day he comes home from his classes bursting with information about machinery and thermodynamics. He sketches a dozen new inventions a week, and describes them all to Toph in convoluted detail. She understands about a quarter of what he says, but she makes a valiant effort to poke holes in all his ideas anyway.

Sokka gets letters from the others all the time, and always reads them out to Toph. When he answers, he reads that aloud too, and Toph calls out jokes and additions. He puts them all in, and letters from the two of them are a jumbled mess.

After one particularly memorable letter from Suki, the opening lines of which are, unfortunately, seared into Toph’s mind forever, Sokka started reading the ones from his girlfriend in private first, and giving Toph an abridged version.

Sometimes they talk about the war. Mostly when they do, it’s lighthearted, “Remember that camp by the town with the weird fish statue, where Aang tried to turn a waterfall into a water slide?” Sometimes it’s… not.

I was gonna write something angsty here about their darker conversations but honestly, I’m not sure I have the skill to pull that off in a single bullet point, and anyway we all know what conversations they were having. These were children who saved the world from an oppressive invader. Every day they walked through war-torn places and they never stopped to help for long. Every night they went to sleep wondering if they’d wake up to Azula fireballing them in the face. Now they’re heroes, and the world is rebuilding, and they’ve never lived in a world that isn’t at war.

After a while Toph gets restless, walking aimlessly day after day through this Fire Nation city while Sokka’s in school, and she goes to visit Zuko. Zuko greets her warmly, hugs her close, thanks her for coming, and gives her rooms in his palace, but he’s horribly busy. She’s invited to the daily dinner banquets, where Zuko sits at the head of a huge hall and the whole court watches him for weaknesses. She slips back into her cultured elegance like putting on clothes several sizes too small. Zuko sits her at his right hand and they talk, but it’s stilted and strange, each of them smiling stiffly through masks they don’t know how to wear well. She stops going to the banquets.

They hadn’t grown especially close, the two of them, back when they were fighting and fleeing together, not like they had with the others. But they’d understood each other, in their approach to bending and to ending the war. They’d understood each other, too, in ways neither of them was really comfortable admitting – both of them highborn children who would never be what their parents wanted, both of them used to luxury and quietly amazed by all the unexpected things involved in living off the land, both of them secretly proud of themselves for handling it so well. Both of them dedicated to winning the war because of their ideals, because of what they knew to be wrong, not due to personal loss. Both of them sitting awkwardly as Katara and Sokka, and later Suki, reminisced about struggling to find enough food for the winter, about passing clothing down through so many generations that it was patched beyond recognition, about learning to fight when they were barely old enough to hold a weapon.

They talked about it so glibly, laughing about the horrible taste of boiled seaweed for the fiftieth day in a row, showing off scars from when they’d stabbed themselves with knives they were too small to wield properly. Aang had laughed at their jokes and been horrified at their scars. Zuko hadn’t laughed, and Toph had heard the shame thick in his voice as he offered scars of his own, from firebending duels with his sister. (He never talked about the one on his face. Toph realized, later, that he assumed they knew how he’d gotten it. They never asked him about it

Toph always figured he had more to be ashamed of than she did – her nation, her family, hadn’t started the war, after all – but she’d been warm and fed and pampered while her friends had been starving, and she didn’t even have scars to show for it.

Now Zuko’s a king and Toph is his honored guest, and she wanders the hollow wooden halls of his palace – Zuko’s palace, her friend’s palace, her friend is a king and he lives in a palace – with one hand trailing on the painted walls. People bow and move out of her way wherever she walks. Generals try to talk to her about battles and tactics, about how a tiny group of violently powerful children evaded an entire army for nearly a year. Their voices are awed and condescending all at once, laced with suspicion and derision and oily flattery. Toph smiles the polite, unassuming smile of a daughter of the house of Bei Fong, and tells them that really it was Sokka who handled the tactics and strategy, she was mostly there to save everyone’s hide when things went wrong.

Then she remembers herself, remembers that she saved the world and she doesn’t have to be anyone’s daughter now. She starts telling them to fuck off.

She thinks, walking through the peaceful palace gardens, feeling the life that wriggles and squirms and breathes through the soil, that if her parents could see her now, friends with a king, they’d — well, actually, they’d probably want to arrange a marriage. At the thought, Toph starts to laugh, and she laughs so hard she has to sit down by one of the elegantly sculpted fountains and rock back and forth, gasping for breath. She hasn’t thought about marriage in so long – over a year, though it feels like so much longer. It used to be such a certainty, looming over her future, that her parents would arrange a marriage with some nice, malleable member of the middle aristocracy, who didn’t mind having a useless blind girl for a wife if it meant marrying into the Bei Fong family. But she’s no one’s daughter now. She resolves, there in an ornamental garden, laughing loud enough to scare the turtleducks, that she will never marry.

Zuko, almost to her surprise, steals time to hang out with her when he can. The first time he showed up in her rooms unannounced, it was in the middle of the afternoon, and he stood and cleared his throat the moment Toph walked in. Her room was tiled in stone – a small consideration that she’d been unreasonably pleased about, when she first saw it – so the moment Zuko put his feet on the floor, Toph recognized him. “Hey,” he started to say, nervous and stilted, “I hope you’re—”

Toph didn’t think about it. She barreled forward to give him a hug, catching him round the waist and almost knocking him back into the couch. She was almost instantly embarrassed, and started to draw back, but before she could, Zuko wrapped his arms hesitantly around her, and then he was hugging her as tight as she was hugging him.

Zuko doesn’t have much free time, but every few days he shows up in her rooms with a plate of delightfully spicy food and a bottle of something that she’s probably too young to be drinking and bitches to her about his advisors, the nobility, the merchant guilds, and the treasury officials constantly shoving new expense reports under his nose. Toph mocks all of them and offers to catapult people out of a window for him.

“No really, I won’t even need bending, these aristocrats are almost as bad as Aang about keeping their feet planted. I’ll just sneak up on them and grab them by the ankle. They’ll never expect it, come on Zuko, it’ll be hilarious!”

They talk, too, about the war. When they do, Toph tells him about the things she’d seen, wandering the subjugated Earth Kingdom. Zuko listens, without interrupting, and Toph thinks that maybe the silence is from shame, and she almost stops. But when he does talk, Zuko asks questions, probes for details. The conversation always turns to how to fix it. The two of them spitball ideas back and forth for how to start healing a shattered world.

They feel acutely the absence of their friends. Aang would be so much better at peacemaking, Zuko laments. Katara would be so much better at understanding what the deeper problems really are. Sokka would have so many ideas for improving access to isolated villages or distributing food and aid efficiently over all the vast expanse of the ravaged Earth Kingdom.

“So why don’t you ask him?” Toph says. “All he does all day is come up with weird new inventions anyway. He might as well come up with something useful.”

Zuko’s letters to the others have always been few and far between, and slightly reserved. He’s been very busy, and a part of him sort of assumed that now they weren’t stuck traveling with him anymore, they wouldn’t want anything to do with him. At Toph’s urging, he asks Sokka about a couple of his mechanical dilemmas, and is startled at how quickly he gets an enthusiastically rambling answer, complete with several pages of blueprints.

Toph tries to get him to do the same with Aang and Katara, but this he won’t do. 

“They don’t have time to solve my problems,” Zuko tells her.

“Isn’t solving people’s problems pretty much Aang’s whole job now? He can just put you on the list.”

Zuko bows his head, like he’s looking into his drink, and says quietly, “If the Avatar is solving the Fire Lord’s problems, then either the Avatar works for the Fire Lord, or the Fire Lord is too weak to rule on his own. Either way, it just causes more problems.”

Toph, who grew up surrounded by the petty intrigues of politics and knows the weight of rumor and reputation, doesn’t contest this. She does say, “You should write them more anyway. Real letters. I bet they miss you.”

Zuko huffs out a laugh, and takes a swig of his drink, and doesn’t answer.

She goes to find Aang and Katara next. They’re wandering the world again, flying from city to town to village, and Toph thinks maybe it’ll be like old times. It even is, when they’re in the sky and Toph’s whole world is air, empty space, nothing but the rustling of the wind in Appa’s fur and the warm round weight of Momo sleeping on her belly. The three of them tease each other, tell jokes, share stories from the months they’ve spent apart, and it feels like home.

There’s no looming threat anymore. It’s strange, still, even after so many months. Toph used to spend the first few minutes after they landed anywhere stretching her senses as far as she could, looking for any signs of people. Now, the first time they land, she feels hundreds of people, and there are a good ten to twenty of them headed right for them, and she panics. She shouts for the others to run and pulls a wall of stone up between them and the oncoming force, eight feet tall and as wide as she can make it, and she’s bracing for the call to topple the wall onto the enemy and run for Appa while Aang and Katara cover their retreat, only instead she hears them yelling at her to stand down. That there’s no threat, that they’re safe, that she’s going to hurt someone.

They sleep in the cities, not in makeshift campsites. Village elders give over their homes to the Avatar and his friends. City mayors offer them luxurious quarters. Aang spends a few hours talking to the people in charge of each new place, then goes out into the streets and spends the rest of the day there, looking for the people he’s not supposed to be talking to. Katara and Toph flank him, and at the formal meetings Toph finds herself once again slipping into formal elegance, while on the streets she tries to keep track of all the people around them, whether they’re threats, whether there’s something Aang should be seeing that’s being kept from them. It’s impossible to track so many moving bodies, and it gives her a headache to try. She tries anyway, because a headache is no price to pay for keeping Aang safe, for helping him heal the world. Several times she stumbles or nearly walks into something, so focused on how everyone’s reacting to Aang that she doesn’t notice the obstacles in her own path. After a while Katara moves to her side, puts an arm around her shoulders as they walk. Toph leans into her, relieved.

Katara is still the nearest thing she has to a mom. Katara makes sure the three of them are getting enough food and sleep and aren’t wearing themselves out. Katara keeps track of their provisions now that Sokka’s gone, and she and Aang work together to figure out their route. Katara makes sure Toph doesn’t get into fights with city officials. (Sometimes Katara gets into fights with city officials, at which point Toph cheers her on and Aang tries desperately to mediate.) Katara makes sure they don’t lose heart at the sheer daunting size of the task ahead of them. Katara sees Toph sitting alone one night against Appa’s side, knees pulled up to her chest and tears running silent down her face, and comes to sit next to her.

Eventually Toph says, “We’re only a few days away from Gaoling.”

Katara nods. “We’ve been wondering whether we should stop there,” she says softly.

Toph shrugs. “Gaoling was mostly untouched by the war. Not a lot of scars there for the Avatar to heal. It’s got some solid political clout in the whole region, though – probably worth making some connections there.”

“It’s up to you,” Katara says. “We’ll go if you want to go.”

Toph pulls her knees closer to her chest. After a moment she leans into Katara, and Katara puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close. Toph falls asleep like that, with Appa snoring gently behind her and Katara murmuring a lullaby into her hair.

They go to Gaoling. They talk to the city’s ruling council, as they do in every city, and Toph braces herself for it but her parents aren’t there. Close to the start of the meeting, one of her cousins – she has a lot of cousins, most of them in her parents’ generation, none of them close – turns to her and says, “Your family has been worried by your long absence, Toph Bei Fong. We are relieved to see you well.”

She should bow politely before answering, she knows – but he didn’t bow to her. Maybe he technically outranks her, maybe she owes him deference as an older cousin – but she’s at the Avatar’s left hand, and she’s grown used to being no one’s daughter. She doesn’t bow, and she doesn’t smile. She just says, “I notice my parents are absent from the council.”

“They rarely attend,” her cousin says. “They were much grieved by your loss.”

Toph stands abruptly, jarring the table with a clatter of cups and plates. She does not say, “Oh were they.” She does not say, “My loss?” She does not say, “I’m not fucking dead, I’m right here, the war’s been over for two years and they never so much as sent a note—” 

She does not say any of this. She turns to Aang and Katara and says, “I’ll meet you in the city once you’re done here.” Then she turns and leaves.

The gate to her family estate is closed. She puts a hand on the wrought iron and knows that she could twist it out of shape, could wrench a hole out of it and step through. Instead she kicks at the earth and launches herself up and over the gate, landing in a neat roll on the manicured lawns. She walks unimpeded to the front door, marveling at the lack of security – there used to always be guards on the walls, where did they go? was it always this easy to get in, or to get out? – and goes looking for her parents.

She’s not surprised, when she finds them, by their reaction. Furious, yes. Heartbroken. But not surprised.

They go to Omashu and King Bumi greets them by siccing Flopsy on them. A giant goat-gorilla comes bounding at them before they’ve even landed and knocks Aang flat as soon as he hits the ground, looking for treats. Appa gives a disgruntled roar, probably jealous, and the huge thing keens in fear and starts running around in circles. Aang’s feet have gotten caught in its collar and he goes flying through the air, trying to get himself free without hurting Flopsy, screaming all the while for Katara and Toph to do something. Katara and Toph are too busy laughing themselves silly. When Bumi finally comes out to meet them, Toph giggles out, “I like your rabbit.” Bumi tells her solemnly, “You’re not the only one. Flopsy’s more popular than I am, so I’ve made him king of Omashu. We all pay our taxes in carrots now.”

Toph and Bumi play so many pranks together. So many. Bumi’s court is actually pretty used to it by this point, but Aang and Katara aren’t. One night at dinner, Bumi sticks all of the furniture and himself to the ceiling with his bending, and screeches in horror when he sees the three of them walking in “upside down.” Katara freezes in shock, and Aang starts airbending a shield above his head before he realizes what’s happening. Toph, who saw it coming from out in the hallway, laughs so hard she cries.

She talks to Bumi a lot about earthbending, about the feel of dirt hardening between your fingers, about the shift and grind of stone as you pull boulders from the ground. She tells him about the sand raiders taking Appa, and the next day he takes her to a sand-filled arena and they duel there for three hours. She gets her ass handed to her, and she gets sand everywhere, but it’s the most fun she’s had in ages. They duel every day, and after leaving Omashu Toph makes a point of practicing wherever she can, until she can bend sand almost as well as she can bend solid ground.

She’s never met anyone else who bends, not just with his whole body, but with his whole being. Bumi’s fascinated by the way she uses bending to see, and she tries to explain it to him as thoroughly as she can, because she’s finally found someone who understands.

Toph travels a long time with Aang and Katara, roaming the world from top to bottom and all the way around.

They stop for a while on Kyoshi Island and she realizes, when she sees Suki running forward to greet them, that her old awkward embarrassment is gone. Suki’s just as flawlessly cool as she always was, but somehow Toph’s not intimidated by it any more. The two of them become friends in a way they never had a chance to before, and it actually does feel a lot like having a badass older sister.

Eventually, almost by coincidence, they find Zuko and Sokka visiting a coastal city that caught the brunt of the attack on the day of Sozin’s Comet. Sokka and Katara rush into a hug, and are teasing each other about their hair and clothes in five seconds flat. Sokka only lets go of his sister long enough to sweep Aang and Toph into hugs of their own, then he starts tugging on Katara’s arm and urging them all to come see the structural supports they’re building for the new docks.

By then Zuko’s reached them, trailed by his gaggle of advisors and attendants. He bows deeply to Aang, who returns the gesture, and says, “We welcome you, Avatar, to these shores.” Aang thanks him, just as formally – he’s learned how to be formal, these days. Toph listens to how their hearts are pounding nervous in their chests and can’t believe she’s friends with such idiots.

“Now kiss!” she hollers. Everyone stares. Sokka’s the first to start laughing, then Katara and Aang and finally Zuko’s laughing too, and Sokka drags Zuko into a group hug, and after that everything is – it’s not perfect, it’s not simple, but it’s okay. After that, it’s okay.

[sinrau]

Many American public-health specialists are at risk of burning out as the coronavirus surges back.

Ed Yong July 7, 2020

Shutterstock / Arsh Raziuddin / The Atlantic

Saskia Popescu’s phone buzzes throughout the night, waking her up. It had already buzzed 99 times before I interviewed her at 9:15 a.m. ET last Monday. It buzzed three times during the first 15 minutes of our call. Whenever a COVID-19 case is confirmed at her hospital system, Popescu gets an email, and her phone buzzes. She cannot silence it. An epidemiologist at the University of Arizona, Popescu works to prepare hospitals for outbreaks of emerging diseases. Her phone is now a miserable metronome, ticking out the rhythm of the pandemic ever more rapidly as Arizona’s cases climb. “It has almost become white noise,” she told me.

For many Americans, the coronavirus pandemic has become white noise—old news that has faded into the background of their lives. But the crisis is far from over. Arizona is one of the pandemic’s new hot spots, with 24,000 confirmed cases over the past week and rising hospitalizations and deaths. Popescu saw the surge coming, “but to actually see it play out is heartbreaking,” she said. “It didn’t have to be this way.”

Popescu is one of many public-health experts who have been preparing for and battling the pandemic since the start of the year. They’re not treating sick people, as doctors or nurses might be, but are instead advising policy makers, monitoring the pandemic’s movements, modeling its likely trajectory, and ensuring that hospitals are ready.

By now they are used to sharing their knowledge with journalists, but they’re less accustomed to talking about themselves. Many of them told me that they feel duty-bound and grateful to be helping their country at a time when so many others are ill or unemployed. But they’re also very tired, and dispirited by America’s continued inability to control a virus that many other nations have brought to heel. As the pandemic once again intensifies, so too does their frustration and fatigue.

America isn’t just facing a shortfall of testing kits, masks, or health-care workers. It is also looking at a drought of expertise, as the very people whose skills are sorely needed to handle the pandemic are on the verge of burning out.

To work in preparedness, Nicolette Louissaint told me, is to constantly stare at society’s vulnerabilities and imagine the worst possible future. The nonprofit she runs, Healthcare Ready, works to steel communities for outbreaks and disasters by ensuring that they have access to medical supplies. She started revving up her operations in January. By March, when businesses and schools started closing and governors began issuing stay-at-home orders, “we were already running on fumes,” she said. Throughout March and April, she got two hours of sleep a night. Now she’s getting four. And yet “I always feel like I’m never doing enough,” she said. “Like one of my colleagues said, I could sleep for two weeks and still feel this tired. It’s embedded in us at this point.”

But the physical exhaustion is dwarfed by the emotional toll of seeing the imagined worst-case scenarios become reality. “One of the big misconceptions is that we enjoy being right,” Louissaint said. “We’d be very happy to be wrong, because it would mean lives are being saved.”

The field of public health demands a particular way of thinking. Unlike medicine, which is about saving individual patients, public health is about protecting the well-being of entire communities. Its problems, from malnutrition to addiction to epidemics, are broader in scope. Its successes come incrementally, slowly, and through the sustained efforts of large groups of people. As Natalie Dean, a biostatistician at the University of Florida, told me, “The pandemic is a huge problem, but I’m not afraid of huge problems.”

The more successful public health is, however, the more people take it for granted. Funding has dwindled since the 2008 recession. Many jobs have disappeared. Now that the entire country needs public-health advice, there aren’t enough people qualified to offer it. The number of epidemiologists who specialize in pandemic-level infectious threats is small enough that “I think I know them all,” says Caitlin Rivers, who studies outbreaks at the Johns Hopkins Center for Health Security.

The people doing this work have had to recalibrate their lives. From March to May, Colin Carlson, a research professor at Georgetown University who specializes in infectious diseases, spent most of his time traversing the short gap between his bed and his desk. He worked relentlessly and knocked back coffee, even though it exacerbates his severe anxiety: The cost was worth it, he felt, when the United States still seemed to have a chance of controlling COVID-19.

The U.S. frittered away that chance. Through social distancing, the American public bought the country valuable time at substantial personal cost. The Trump administration should have used that time to roll out a coordinated plan to ramp up America’s ability to test and trace infected people. It didn’t. Instead, to the immense frustration of public-health advisers, leaders rushed to reopen while most states were still woefully unprepared.

When Arizona Governor Doug Ducey began reviving businesses in early May, the intensive-care unit of Popescu’s hospital was still full of COVID-19 patients. “Within our public-health bubble, we were getting nervous, but then you walked outside and it was like Pleasantville,” she said. “People thought we had conquered it, and now it feels like we’re drowning.”

The COVID-19 unit has had to expand across an entire hospital wing and onto another floor. Beds have filled with younger patients. Long lines are snaking around the urgent-care building, and people are passing out in the 110-degree heat. At some hospitals, labs are so inundated that it takes several days to get test results back. “We thought we could have scaled down instead of scaling up,” Popescu said. “But because of poor political decisions that every public-health person I know disagreed with, everything that could go wrong did go wrong.”

“I feel like I’ve been making the same recommendations since January,” says Krutika Kuppalli, an infectious-disease physician who works in public health. The last time she felt this tired was in 2014, after spending three months in West Africa helping with the region’s historic Ebola outbreak. Everyone who experienced that crisis, she told me, was deeply shaken; she herself suffered from post-traumatic stress upon returning home.

The same experts who warned of the coronavirus’s resurgence are now staring, with the same prophetic worry, at a health-care system that is straining just as hurricane season begins. And they’re demoralized about repeatedly shouting evidence-based advice into a political void. “It feels like writing ‘Bad things are about to happen’ on a napkin and then setting the napkin on fire,” Carlson says.

A pandemic would have always been a draining ordeal. But it is especially so because the U.S., instead of mounting a unified front, is disjointed, cavalier, and fatalistic. Every week brings fresh farce, from Donald Trump suggesting that the country should do less testing to massive indoor gatherings of unmasked people.

“One by one, people are seeing something so absurd that it takes them out of commission,” Carlson says.

Public health is not a calling for people who crave the limelight, and researchers like Rivers, the Johns Hopkins professor, have found their sudden prominence jarring. Almost all of the 2,000 Twitter followers she had in January were other scientists. Most of the 130,000 followers she now has are not. The slow, verbose world of academic communication has given way to the blistering, constrained world of tweets and news segments.

The pandemic is also bringing out academia’s darker sides—competition, hostility, sexism, and a lust for renown. Armchair experts from unrelated fields have successfully positioned themselves as trusted sources. Male scientists are publishing more than their female colleagues, who are disproportionately shouldering the burden of child care during lockdowns. Many researchers have suddenly pivoted to COVID-19, producing sloppy work with harmful results. That further dispirits more cautious researchers, who, on top of dealing with the virus and reticent politicians, are also forced to confront their own colleagues. “If I cannot reasonably convince people I’ve been friends with for years that their work is causing tangible harm, what possible future do I see on this career path?” Carlson asks.

Other scientists and health officials are facing the wrath of a nation on edge. Unsettled by months of stay-at-home orders, confused by rampant misinformation, distraught over the country’s blunders, and embroiled in yet more culture wars over masks and lockdowns, Americans are lashing out. Public-health experts—and women in particular—have become targets. Several have resigned because of threats and harassment. Others face streams of invective in their inboxes and on their Twitter feeds. “I can say something and get horrendously attacked, but a man who doesn’t even work in this field can go on national TV and be revered for saying the exact same thing,” Popescu said.

Some critics have caricatured public-health experts as finger-wagging alarmists ensconced in an ivory tower, far away from the everyday people who are suffering the restrictive consequences of their advice. But this dichotomy is false. The experts I spoke with are also scared. They’re also feeling trapped at home. They also miss their loved ones. Louissaint, who lives in Baltimore, hasn’t seen her New York–based parents this year.

“I feel like I’m living in at least three realities at the same time,” Louissaint told me. She’s responding directly to the pandemic, trying to ensure that patients and hospitals get the supplies they need. She’s running an organization, trying to make sure that her employees keep their jobs. She’s a Black woman, living through a pandemic that has disproportionately killed Black people and the historic protests that have followed the killings of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Ahmaud Arbery. During the ensuing reckonings about race, “I’ve been pulled into so many conversations about equity that people weren’t having months ago,” Louissant said.

“Someone said to me, ‘I hope you’re getting tons of support,’” she added. “But there’s no feasible thing that anyone could do to make this better, no matter how much they love you. The mental toll isn’t something you can easily share.”

These laments feel familiar to people who lived through the AIDS crisis in the ’80s, says Gregg Gonsalves, a Yale epidemiologist who has been working on HIV for 30 years and who has the virus himself. “I have friends who survived the virus but didn’t survive the toll it took on their lives,” Gonsalves told me. “I’m incredulous that I’m seeing this twice in my lifetime. The idea that I’m going to have to fend off another virus … like, really, can I have just one?”

But Gonsalves added that HIV veterans have a deep well of emotional reserves to draw from, and a sense of shared purpose to mobilize. His advice to the younger generation is twofold. First, don’t ignore your feelings: “Your anxiety, fear, and anger are all real,” he said. Then, find your people. “They may not be your colleagues,” he said, and they might not be scientists. But they’ll share the same values, and be united in recognizing that “public health is not a career, but a mission and a calling.”

Despite the toll of the work and the pressure from all sides, the public-health experts I talked with are determined to continue. “I’m glad I have a way in which I can be useful,” Rivers said. “I feel like it’s my duty to do what I can.”

The Pandemic Experts Are Not Okay

[gothamite-rambler]

I can't write a full on story I hope someone does, but you have to add this to the story. Because he would say this:

Bruce: Oh wow, you went to a world where it was clear I only cared about being Batman?

Jason: Y... Yeah.

Bruce (pulling out a bottle Cognac): And used kids as weapons and didn't care about them? At all.

Jason (gritted teeth): Yes.

Bruce: That's fascinating. That means what exactly?

Jason: I'm actually asking you to not make me say it.

Bruce (pouring the liquid into two glasses): No, I'm not making you. I just want to hear this for my sake. Confirmation. It's not like I'm recording this entire conversation, but if you could say it as a complete sentence that'd be great.

Jason: This is going to hurt every bone in my body... In this reality I currently am in, you actually care about us as your children and although allowing your adopted children to be Robins, which you did allow us not force us to do, is not okay to me... you are glad to be a father and for that... I'm sorry for thinking you only saw us as weapons cause it could've been so much worse.

Bruce sniffled, holding his head down with a small smile.

Bruce: I've always wanted you to say something of that variation. This is better than the time you went to the dimension where I turned evil because of Joker toxin and after I killed him.

Jason (taking the second shot glass): Yeah, whatever.

Bruce: The fact you knew you could take that shows I am at least a good dad.

Jason (as he went upstairs): Don't push it!

Jason travels to an alternate universe where Bruce only cares about being Batman. He took in each of his kids to serve the mission, not be his children.

Now, faced with alternate versions of his family, Jason has to grapple with the fact that his Bruce does care, that he is his father. Because the man in front of him now, trying to send him home, isn’t even close.