#reading well is resistance

[fshoulders]

Thought I didn't have anything to add here, but then I pondered. I do have something to add about "what I assume my teachers were trying to teach me with the classics".

I'm not a secondary school English teacher, but I've played one in the past: I used to substitute-teach English at the private high school where I myself matriculated around the time of Jurassic Park. I've taught classes on Great Expectations, Jane Eyre, Henry IV Part...mumble, the Iliad, the Ramayana, Their Eyes Were Watching God (if you didn't get taught that as a classic, go enjoy it now, oh my word).... Lots of stuff. And one time, I taught a class on why we take English class.

It was at the end of my first and longest stint as a substitute, when the head of the English department had broken her arm in twelventy places so I ended up teaching 3 or 4 sections of Junior English for several weeks. We'd started and finished Their Eyes Were Watching God, and moved on to something else, and by then I knew I loved these kids. Which was a shock: when I was their age, I was a misanthropic little paladin and did not like most of my peers. But high school juniors (16-17 years old) are whip-smart, but not yet cocky with it like seniors. They like to have fun, but they're easier to get to quiet down and think seriously than sophomores. However, after those weeks, I felt like even the kids who were best at English class -- who did the reading and raised their hands and weren't afraid to make wild, beautiful connections -- didn't really know why they were there.

So I asked their Regular Teacher if I could take one class period in each class and just do a group discusssion about what English class is for. Because the vibe I was getting off them was 'so I have English grades to use to get into college with'. I had 'em write down their answers anonymously to "What is English Class For?"

They handed their answers in, and I read 'em out. And we talked about their answers, and then we talked about my answers. They had some answers I hadn't thought of. And some of my own answers I didn't have to bring up, because that class already had! A lot of them knew they needed to learn to write well, for instance. We talked about the different kind of things they might want to write besides college essays and eventual job 'deliverables'. (I seem to recall telling them that even if they never wanted to try to write original fiction, that didn't mean cribbing techniques off the 'masters' couldn't make their fanfic better. I know I am a dork, but they laughed!) Some of them talked about a sort of cultural acquisition: getting to know exactly the sort of 'great books' and liberal arts touchstones that were getting beaten up in those screenshots at the top of the thread.

But I think maybe one kid in one of the classes, if that, wrote down the thing I really wanted them to take with 'em out of English class -- English class teaches you how to read more skillfully.

And some of the texts they practice reading on are texts they wouldn't have chosen, which makes them surly. (It sure made me surly in middle and high school.) Some of them are difficult to read. But reading is a skill, like any other. Even if they hadn't wanted to read Jane Eyre, or A River Runs Through It, or Elizabeth Bishop's poetry, or Toni Cade Bambara's short fiction, they could use those texts to improve their facility to read deeply, closely, and well. Then they could apply that facility to any text they wanted to read. For academic ambition, for pleasure or self-improvement or curiosity, or to keep up with a crush. And much of that skill is even transferable, out of the English language, out of the written word! They could read into and under horror movies, political ads, rap lyrics, art films, video games! They could notice and name the biases in the things they read, or read the context around a story the way this whole beautiful thread above did with Huckleberry Finn.

Reading deeply and critically is an underrated skill. We don't talk about it enough, we don't practice it enough, and maybe we don't even know when we're supposed to be learning it. Maybe the screenshotted people had terrible teachers who never made it clear that art isn't endorsement, that we can read against the past but still understand it, or indeed why they were sitting in that classroom at all. If you don't hand the student a scalpel, maybe this is what you get: a reader who stared at each book like the outside of a frog and took nothing away but the fact it reeked of formaldehyde. Maybe it's just a series of bad jokes!

But come, for Muses' sake let us sit upon the ground, and tell mad stories of why we hate Gatsby's guts. (With supporting evidence from the text.) Tell me whether you think the narrator of Wuthering Heights wants you to approve of Kathy and Heathcliff's relationship, and why you think that! Is he manipulating you to feel a certain way? What language feels manipulative, or engages you more with one character's emotions than another's? What do you think Jim thinks of Huck in this chapter, and why do you think that? Which racism do you think is the character's, and which is the author's? How do you tease that out?

English Class: You can bear that book a grudge for the rest of your life, but learning a lot from it today is the best revenge.

[aueua]

love these guys. the musical chairs

[cheesenchalk]

i never know how to phrase it but something about the way beatles biographers and people in general view paul's reflexive placating persona and determination to smooth things over as manipulative or duplicitous and john's reflexive barbed persona and habit of lashing out as brave and subversive despite both being equally defensive mechanisms to shield themselves from the world that resulted in them saying things that weren't true says more about how we culturally view kindness or friendliness as inherently untrustworthy or flimsy and anger and carelessness as more believable as someone's true nature than it says about either of them in actuality

[vaguely-concerned]

how much have the crows actually been sanitized outside of the very narrow view you get of them both in place and in time in veilguard, and how much is caterina deliberately putting her most presentable and pr friendly foot forward because she needs HELP with both the grandson and the antaam situations and is already playing from a weakened overwhelmed position. is she going to show off all the dirty laundry the crows undeniably have in front of the people she's courting for an alliance? is rook going to be looking a gift crow in the beak too closely when help is offered, go digging through that laundry basket on their own initiative on principle, knowing what you might find further down in it isn't pretty and might still be sharp, while the world is burning? is it entirely coincidental that the people caterina picks to interact with you most is teia -- the youngest, most charismatic and notably most weirdly idealistic of the talons -- and viago -- who is perhaps none of these things naturally but is dependable and logical and sharp and also down so cataclysmically bad for teia that when she runs in shouting 'TEIA YES!!! >:D' he sighs with longsuffering resignation and goes '...viago also yes. I suppose. under duress, let the record note' and follows.

surely parts of how each house functions would be left largely up to the individual talons, right? as long as they produce crows capable of doing the job and keeping up with the competition, I doubt the first talon micromanages how they get there (...for good or ill. lots of dead fledglings buried under that laissez faire policy, probably). they're very far away from a monolithic structure, they're constantly competing merchant houses/families striving to gain the upper hand held in check by little except 'if enough of the other houses shake hands and gang up on us for pushing our luck we're fucked, so don't push it too far'. like I believe lucanis says at one point, even calling them an organization is stretching the definition to a breaking point in some ways lol this is fully herding cats territory. all this to say that in this game we spend most of our time in teia's house. andarateia cantori, of the firm genuine conviction recognized as mildly unhinged by all the other talons that the crows truly are her family, who loves them with her whole unstoppable foolhardy thinks-she-will-die-young-and-live-eternally-in-song-and-story heart for it. teia, who won't leave the cantori diamond even to go home to sleep because she doesn't want the fledglings to have to see the place empty. do I think the way teia cantori would run her house is indicative of the average experience of being trained as and living as a crow? no. obviously. why are people seeming to assume that so immediately? sometimes I do wonder if I'm going insane.

between that and the antaam situation -- which turns the romanticized image antiva already is eager to reach for with the crows (the same way european literary tradition through the ages sure LOVES a knight, no matter what knights were actually like when you had one kicking around in real life) into an effective and recognizable symbol of resistance from an outside force (at least these awful little guys are home grown in a way we're kind of proud of despite it all and also they are deeply inescapably cool)... perhaps indeed a symbol of resistance and freedom that momentarily covers for a multitude of sins. I don't think we need to draw definitive conclusions about what the crows are like universially, historically or in different contexts from what we see in veilguard. sort of like the british in the pop cultural understanding being 'the good guys' when we think about WW2, and the sheer ludicrousness of that characterization of the british empire seen in any other context or angle lmao. I DO think there are some genuine writerly '*handwaves established ugliness aside aggressively* just uuuuuh don't worry about it! not important right now! you can feel at least ok hanging out with the cool theater kids but with murder they're like. comparatively chill in this context it's fine and they're fun' going on too. and you know what. they are fun. invenci is unfortunately objectively right, but the crows are sooo much more fun. and in fiction land that trumps all. absolutely baffling writing choice when you read through to the political/ideological conclusion that's reached from it of course (sort of accidentally? I think???), but would it really be a bioware game without a few of those. it's how you know you're home (derogatory and affectionate)

in short there are writing problems by god are there real problems here. obviously. and it'd take smarter and more knowledgeable people than me to properly untangle all of that. glorifying organized crime is a time honoured tradition in fiction that perhaps... shouldn't be quite so much and is uh risky, you're always playing with fire there. but I frankly don't think the 'de-edgeifying' for lack of a better term is that much of an inescapable one or that it erases what we knew of the crows before, we're just getting the angle on them in one very specific time and place in history and with specific individuals involved setting the tone. eight little talons killing off most of the established leadership beforehand so it's mostly only teia and viago who get to keep their full power base (even caterina and the dellamortes takes some losses in the apparent death of lucanis before the start of the game) probably figures into that somewhere too lol

[emeraldotter]

baby boy

[saym0-0]

bumblebee holoform take 2. i like this one a whole better now, i feel like the outfit fits the vibe i was going for a lot better hehe

the car was admittedly traced from the screenshot below, from the 2007 movie, and the whole thing kinda turned into a colour study of that scene because i just really love the lighting in that film, its so pretty :33

i kinda just had fun with it towards the end though with all the scribbly bits haha

close ups:

sorry for the low res, i drew it really tiny on the canvas 🤭🤭

[daddy-long-legssss]

[lucrezianoin]

(The song is "Just a man" by EPIC Ensemble and Jorge Rivera-Herrans)

Imagine tho that this is what they are thinking of themselves (as monsters). But they truly are not.

alternative version because i could not decide

[whomeidontknowthem]

Eyes on me – an interactive whump story. Part 5.

Previous part. Masterpost.

Content: institutionalized slavery, imprisonment, dehumanizing language, it/its for an inhuman whumpee, pet whump, whipping, blood, physical abuse, withholding of food, training, torture, intimate whumper, carewhumper, mentioned pet death, tell me if i missed something

Lord Teelo didn’t strike. 

He lowered his arm, eyes never straying from holding the creature’s terrified gaze. The room reeked of blood, now streaming down the lord’s fingers in a warm waterfall. He worked hard on pushing his fury back, taking it under control as many times before. He was in control. He would show it, careful and persistent and levelheaded. He would make sure it remembered the lesson forever. The crop was not meant for punishments, it was too short, too soft – he hadn’t meant to punish it. He was going to be a kind and gracious owner. It had left him no choice!

He opened the door, finding the redheaded guard still in the corridor.

“Get a proper whip,” he ordered. “More chains – gods damned handcuffs, whichever idiot thought of leaving it like this?! And a knife, scissors – or whatever, something to file its atrocious claws.”

The guard stared at him, not in the face – at his arm. Lord Teelo felt it – the consistent drip-drip-drip of his blood. He didn’t feel the ache yet. Nothing but the quiet, cold fury he couldn’t wait to unleash at the world. Haltingly, the guard started, “Should I bring someone to take a look at–”

“I have told you what you should do,” his voice came out as a hiss.

“Yes, my lord,” the guard saluted and hesitated only a moment before running down the corridor. 

Lord Teelo closed the door with a loud crash. He paced inside, steps echoing around the room, as the pain slowly started to radiate out. He hated it. Oh how he wished he could slice the thing’s skin just this moment, not waiting for anything and anyone. He picked up the crop once more, stoped before the creature – it cowered to the very corner between the wall and its cage, never letting its eyes away from him. Oh, now it was looking. It dared to look! 

“You think yourself smart?” the lord hissed. “Think you did something good for yourself? Oh, no, you’re gonna regret this. You’re gonna regret this so much.”

The pain seeped into his consciousness with every heartbeat, radiant and nauseatingly familiar. He held a handkerchief to the cuts until it filled with deep red. He threw it away – it landed in a wet disgusting lump on the table, by the bowl of wet disgusting meat. Oh how the lord had tried to be a nice host, how he had tried to accommodate this, this– 

“Damned, ungrateful, hateful beast!” Lord Teelo roared. The glass of the bowl nearly slipped from his bloodied fingers when he grabbed it, and then shattered to thousands pieces to the side of the creature’s head. Its dinner fell onto the floor, useless. Oh, it wouldn’t get any, it would have to work, to beg for any crumb from then on – it would regret, regret it so much!..

The door slid open soundlessly after a short knock, letting in the heavy footsteps and the clanging of metal. The lord turned on his heels, facing the guard. “And why in the world have you not brought a damned healer!” he hissed. “Can’t you see I’m bleeding out!”

The guard blinked. “But you have–” 

“YOU DARE ARGUE WITH ME?!” 

He was struggling to breathe, chest heaving with effort. The blood was still warm down his arm, still bright on the broken glass and light wood of his floors. How could the idiot not understand!

There were chains in the guard’s arms and a leathery length of the whip. Lord Teelo snatched it and demanded, “Chain it up!” The guard hesitated, opened his mouth. “NOW!” 

He did. The lord watched as he came to the beast, careful with his steps, cautious of it. It squeezed itself deeper into the corner. Lord Teelo could see it shaking. He was delighted to see it shaking. The guard reached out, the first cuff prepared, and Lord Teelo watched from a step away as it lifted its hands up, close to its chest. Its teeth were bared, pupils wide and eyes wider. It tried saying something, but what came out was only a mess of sounds with no meaning. 

The guard squeezed its arm even as it tried to avoid it. It whined and fought back, tried getting out of the grasp, tried pushing him away, tried and fought and struggled as he cursed under his nose. Its claws went through the skin of his palm ripping out a sharp hiss. It managed to raise its hind leg as the cuff clicked around its wrist, its claws scratching against the metal in an effort that only delayed the inevitable. 

Lord Teelo had little patience left. He stepped forward, connecting his heel with the middle of the creature’s tail. It yelped, flinched backwards – its head connected with the wall, and before it could regroup the second handcuff was in place. After that, restraining its legs was only a matter of time.

“Turn it around,” the lord ordered. Chains clang as it fought in an ever increasing panic. “To the wall, yes… yes, just like that.” The locks rattled, forced closed. The guard let the key fall onto the ground, forcing the creature to kneel. It hid its tail between its legs, whining as its head was pressed into the wall. “Is the chain short enough? Will it be able to move?”

“I don’t think so, my lord,” the guard answered. 

Lord Teelo played with the whip, trying it out. “Good. Go fetch the healer– wait. I need – something sharp, something – to secure on its tail. See how it hides it? I need something it can’t hide from.”

The guard looked puzzled. He eased his hold in a test, and the creature threw its whole weight backwards, fighting the chains. They held. Kneeling, with its tail hidden and only back visible, it looked strikingly like a human. “Perhaps clothespins, my lord?” It wasn’t what he had in mind. What he wanted – it wasn’t that. Not this easy, tame solution.

“It would work,” he drew out. He would go to the smith when he had time. He had an idea, oh, that would be a genius idea. “Just this once."

He flexed his left arm and rubbed his right. It hurt as all deaths, but it had stopped bleeding. He failed to crack the whip the first time but managed it the second, inches from the creature’s back. The guard bowed, taking it as a sign to leave. 

The creature mumbled and mumbled more, sounds a meaningless mush falling from its tongue. If Lord Teelo was generous, he could see it as an apology; he would not even entertain the possibility of giving in to it, of course. 

The second crack was right by its ear. It flinched and curled up further but couldn't hide.

It wailed when the whip connected with its back – so loud, so quickly, taken by surprise. Lord Teelo bared his teeth in a smile and struck again, violent purple already flowering on the gray of its skin, and struck again without waiting – three, four, six, twelve hits in a row, as it flinched and writhed and cried out.

He paused afterwards, and saw as it tensed, first, its whole body shaking with the effort of breathing, hiccupping in what sounded almost like sobs. He waited, watching how it trembled more and more. He let it marinate in the anticipation, the fear coiling and coiling with no release, the stinging of its sore back growing as its patience ran thin. 

When it raised its head, just barely, as if to look, the whip snapped through the air again. 

It screamed out. He didn’t give it time to recover. 

The lord hit it with no pattern, pausing and continuing at his leisure, until his arm grew heavy with pain and the creature nearly silent. Lord Teelo could only hear its labored breathing, air forced out of its body with every strike. Its back bloomed with purple that gave way to red when the skin opened, the new lines covering the rainbow pattern in an unstructured, repulsive mess.

Oh, he nearly pitied it, trembling pathetically in the corner. Then he rubbed his arm and the sharp pain was enough to remember why he didn’t. 

He struck for the last time, lazily, with his left, and then a few more for a good measure. When a polite knock announced the guard’s return, he felt pleasantly tired, like after a good work out. He called out for the man to enter. 

The guard did and the healer, an old woman the lord knew for most of his life, followed in. She looked the room over with stony, unreadable expression, and Lord Teelo met her gaze with a nice enough smile. “You’ve got your toy,” she stated and that was all the attention the creature got from her. 

She made a quick enough work of the wounds: cleaned and bandaged them up after applying that miraculous numbing cream the lord appreciated since early childhood. The creature would appreciate it even more, he thought, glancing at the pathetic thing. It had shifted at some point, stretching its legs just a bit but keeping its head hidden. Its body shook violently, trembling so much it in itself looked tiring. 

“Should I look it over?” the healer suggested, all business. 

The lord huffed, “What would the point of a punishment be then?” 

The woman looked him over with that annoying, unreadable gaze. “Call me whenever you change your mind,” she bowed and left when he dismissed her. 

Lord Teelo tried the clothespins with interest, forcing the spring to coil and then letting it go softly around his finger, just a tad, until it started hurting. “Good enough,” he concluded finally and got up. 

The creature flinched when his boots stopped by its form but didn’t try anything. “Poor thing,” he drew out and crouched, ran his fingers along its back lightly, brushing fingertips over the painful ridges of future bruises. Its breaths hitched, but it didn’t make a sound. “And all you needed was to not act like a brainless brat to avoid all this. You have no one but yourself to blame, silly thing,” he told it. It didn’t answer, shivering under his touch but not attempting anything stupid. 

“But maybe you can learn,” he hummed and moved his hand down to where its tail started. It tensed even further, if it was possible at all. “Let’s just make sure the lesson sticks, huh?” It curled up even further as he tagged on its tail, releasing from under the creature’s body. He flickered it back and forth and rubbed between his fingers and was satisfied when it sobbed and shuddered but remained motionless otherwise. 

“Like this, yes,” he muttered. With the softest touch of his second hand, he stoked its head. “But look at me now. Eyes on me,” It didn’t understand. He caught a fistful of its fur and tagged. “Eyes on me.”

Too drained to resist, it lifted its head as he guided it. “Eyes on me,” he demanded again, and it either guessed or truly learned – its gaze settled on him, focusing to the best of its ability – and, oh, what a pathetic mess it looked, eyes bloodshot and wet in ways he’d thought only a human's could be, dark lines from where it pressed into the floorboards marking its cheeks. There was something red around its mouth – did it bite itself, the poor thing? 

Lord Teelo clicked his tongue, smiled softly and released its fur. It settled back instantly, curling up again. Its tail remained in his hands. 

He picked up the first pin. 

It must have assumed at first that he was just playing like he had been, – at least, it didn’t seem to tense up too much, nor expect the sharp pain when he released the spring around its tail. It shuddered, head whipping up, staring at him once again. He smiled. Picked up the second clothespin. 

It tried to get its tail free – oh, it tried as much as it could without hurting him, but he tightened the grasp and played with the pins as it couldn’t help a new whimper, and hushed it and urged it to sit still. “That’s for you to remember the lesson better,” he told it pleasantly. It must have cried, body shaking again, and tried to kick just once, the movement stopped halfway through by a short chain. 

Lord Teelo wondered how many pins would be good for it – should he go with the whole set the guard had brought? He settled on five, at the end, a nice even number not even halfway through what he had. He was feeling rather merciful and forgiving, and it sounded just so pathetic. 

He called the guard in to urge it into the cage when it was done. It didn’t even try fighting, following the man's tagging and pushing until it was inside, drawing its limbs close and curling up to fully fit. Nearly immediately, its fingers itched towards the pins, human-like thumbs ready to work on the problem. Lord Teelo snapped his fingers to get its attention.

“No,” he said, words dripping with finality. He reached through the bars and tagged its tail outside. “The clothespins stay here for the night,” he told it. It probably didn’t understand – there was so little thought in its eyes. He let go of it hoped for its sake it understood what he meant. He didn’t want to have to punish it so soon for their lack of common language. 

When he went to sleep, the shaky breaths and the rare clanging when it tried to settle more comfortable sounded like a lullaby to his ears.

In the morning, his arm stung mercilessly and unendingly, and no melodies of birds and gentle sunrays could make his mood better. He turned lazily, letting his eyes fall onto the cage. The creature was curled inside of it, eyes shut tight and ears flickering restlessly. Its tail fluttered too, freed at some point from the pins, one of its hands curling around it protectively. 

Lord Teelo felt stuck between endearment and irritation. He moved and the cuts on his arm ached, and irritation won. 

“Hey… you,” he called and realized he hadn’t come up with a name. He should think about it as some point, he decided grimly, and banished the thought of the last pet he’d named, back in childhood. That was a just a cat, a stupid spoilt creature with too much attitude. The lord remembered the way it looked, painted red and unmoving, after crossing one too many lines. 

The creature didn’t move at his call, either. He picked up an extinguished candle from his bedside table and threw it towards the cage. “Hey!” 

There was no reaction. With an undignified groan, he forced himself on his feet and towards the cage. He rattled the key across the bars, the way that always seemed to get the creature’s attention.

It didn’t react. It was outright ignoring him! 

Had it learned nothing?!

He reached through the bars and tagged on its tail, finally getting some response in return – it flinched weakly and grimaced. Slowly, its eyes fluttered open, but didn’t settle on the lord. They looked as if through him, unfocused and dizzy, and a pang of worry cut through the just rage when they closed back and its chest heaved, struggling for breath. 

Something was wrong.

He reached through the bars and towards its forehead, forgetting for a second it wasn’t a human. The skin under his fingers was blasting hot and sickly wet. It moved closer to his fingers, all but nuzzling against him. 

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Updates every 7-10 days (depending on how much time I have and how obvious the poll result is) (unless something goes wrong and it takes me too weeks to get myself to write something. I'm so very sorry about the delay!)

@isikedmyself878, @fraugustends, @otterfrost, @fuchstastisch, @3-2-whump,

@the-lone-youth, @will-o-the-wips, @catnykit, @granny-aaravos, @mj-or-say10

Tell me to be tagged in the new parts!

[verstappen100]

Daniel Ricciardo | August 28th Piquadro event

[bearotonin-international]

thank you. I did not expect a reply, nor one so fast.

you are beary welcome friend

[nellasbookplanet]

Okay finished my arcane season 1 rewatch (and I absolutely didn’t cry again) (I'm lying I'm still wiping the tears off) and god it really is a master class of storytelling, isn’t it.

The last episode being called 'the monster you made'. Silco condemning Vander for giving up fighting because it endangered those he loves, only to then himself being unable to obtain his goal because it would mean giving up the only person he loves and he finally understands. Zaun being inches from getting their independence and freedom only for a hurt child to blow it all up in the name of the father figure she killed to protect a sister who left her. Because that's the thing, isn’t it. Jinx and Silco are monsters and legitimate villains but only becaue Piltover created them. They made their own choices sure, but they were choices that would never have even been on the table if they didn't exist in the constant despair and desperation and loss that is living in oppression under a police state that fancies itself a utopia. Piltover and the council built their own monsters and were then shocked and horrified when they acted the part and bit back.

[tani-b-art]

THEE IDA B. WELLS, the resistance of a Black American: Boycotting, migration, the international shaming of America and the importance of now using the lineage, ethno-term of Foundational Black American.

Wells’ two anti-lynching lecture tours in 1893 & 1894 in Britain had huge economic impact that doesn’t get discussed enough.

Not only did she encourage and practice boycotting, she also strongly urged the activism of migrating and traveled across the world to put the United States of America on blast!

“International shaming influences behavior—it’s one of the best tools to combat human rights violations. It imposes social costs. It embarrasses the target’s reputation and legitimacy and mobilizes domestic opposition in the target state and puts pressures on policy makers.” International shaming is social sanctioning. The objective of international shaming is to galvanize action in the form of tangible repercussions.

Ida went to London not once but twice and each time, she indicted America! Her activism absolutely put the country in bad standing with the UK. America’s reputation, status, security, esteem and recognition became devalued because of her! The ties between both countries went into yellow alert so to speak because of her campaign. Honestly would label Ida B. Wells as the original geopolitical moderator or geopolitical enforcer because she put both the target and shamer on notice.

I don’t think we grasp the vast significance of The Great Migration. The migration of six million+ Black Americans in a span of six decades held a lot of economic weight in consequences and power. The exercising of that citizenship practice was financial activism in and of itself. The Great Migration was this massive exodus of Black Americans from the US south to the north (and west and east) that transformed the literal landscape of American life. "By their actions, they would reshape the social and political geography of every city they migrated to. When the migration began, 90% of all Black Americans were living in the South. By the time it was over, in the 1970s, 47% of all Black Americans were living in the North and West." Our ancestors did this multiple times, in two waves (1910-1930, 1940-1970). Their migration away from the south had grave after effects on the white business sector of the south too. Their migration had dual implications -- one, it was for themselves, their families and their progeny in that it was for our people to gain their rightful place into the American dream they built within the country and the physical upward mobility was a movement of empowerment (financially, psychologically, bodily, spiritually) by rescuing themselves from the racial violence that was heavily accepted in the south and two, their actions would cause a ripple effect in that the white commerce of the cities all over would suffer financially as a result of them migrating out the south. I find it so courageous and selfless that many families also moved as support for their fellow community members, their next door neighbors (the solidarity of community was the reason why Ida even began reporting on lynchings because her friend and his business partners were lynched out of jealousy by a white mob). They stood in solidarity with one another by collectively departing their own homes and own cities, towns and states and left behind businesses as well. That takes so much fortitude and strength and faith and sacrifice to just up and leave what is all some of them had known. To just pickup and leave behind family homes passed down from generation to generation and leave behind a place that was home to them. They decided that all their capital in their spending, buying, entrepreneurship, intellectual capital, labor capital and population capital could be appreciated up north or elsewhere and they did just that and left behind wastelands for the racist white community to figure out themselves. The Great Migration was a permanent act of resistance. One that should be praised. One that should be repaired and compensated for as well because many were also forced to migrate from their homes from the white terror inflicted upon them, destroying their communities in the wake—there are countless white families today that have been passing down unearned and un-inherited homes, businesses and land that their ancestors violently confiscated from Black American families with the help of the government, police, politicians, military. Which is why they migrated. Why we practice migrating. The migration within our country - crossing city lines, zip codes, regions, parishes, counties and state lines shows the resilient nature of us.

Wells' usage of her voice to advocate boycotting and her intellectual, journalistic power to travel across the pond to shame America with their international economic partners was an extremely geopolitical success. She did something in a manner to leverage our community against the entire globe. She couldn't reach to the lacking human sensibilities, decency and morals of white America, so she re-strategized.

And her strategy was absolutely boss-mode! The offense and defense she played with our country and other countries is such a valuable blueprint to study. She played checkers, chess and it was all so tactical!!!

This brings me to how we as Black Americans are foundational to this country. I grasped this about a year or two ago but tucked it away not fully realizing the magnitude of it.

What Wells did while in Britain shows what having a governmental power in your corner means. Governmental power with the control to economically damage another entity that is inflicting harm on a disenfranchised group. Wells went to London with the precise intentions to give America an ultimatum. You don't want to stop lynching my people and I am exposing the violent, deadly act you condone to your biggest trading partners. She did it by appealing to what seemed to be the overbalance of human decency that the British had over America. Her urging to boycott as a response to lynching and also going out of the country to expose the domestic terrorism resulted in financial consequence and also helped to form The English Anti-Lynching Committee. What’s remarkable is that Britain has never been Black Americans’ native land yet Wells had that much righteous indignation for the ways Black Americans were mistreated that that alone was enough influence to galvanize them to action. A revolutionary!

In 2021, when Biden signed the Anti-Asian Hate Bill is when it instantly hit me that it's really all about money. The uptick of violence that Asian Americans began to experience was so quickly remedied by that administration that it was alarming to me. Here is where I understood that it is all about the monetary relationship ethnic groups have with our country. The swift response to creating and signing a bill into law showed to me that Asian countries gave an ultimatum to the US. "America, you either do something about this increase in violence to our people or our money goes." My city's mayor at the time in 2019 or early 2020 was quick to respond to the then unknown COVID virus with a statement along the lines of "Please continue to patron Asian businesses". It wasn't a first thought or major concern with health safety at all with what none of us knew of the virus, it was all about revenue and patronage. In real-time, I was discussing this in a group chat when Biden announced he was “cracking down on Asian hate”. The group chat member I was conversing with brought up the mass lynching of Italian immigrants in New Orleans of 1891. Their home country of Italy went as far as cutting off trade and diplomatic ties for about a year until President Harrison gave in to acknowledge it and appoint a special investigation. There's a "mother land" to phone home to when your new homeland participates in subjugating you and doesn't speak up about the atrocities you are experiencing. And America has a fear of losing trade partners that funnels and generates so much money into our financials that we did act out to find a solution to end the violence against these immigrant groups. THIS is something Black Americans do not have in our corner. A deck of cards we don't have in our possession as other groups have and have been able to use. There is no continent or country to back us up as a group when the oppression continues as other groups are able to do. There is no other country that we can appeal to to condemn America's acts of injustice upon us. Centuries ago, Wells had this international support from London but that isn't the case in contemporary times.

But because there is no other country to run to, to call on, to find sanctuary in, that isn't an option for us. We don't get to call on any country to penalize America when our country causes harm on us (by its white citizens or by the white racist controlled judicial system, health system, educational system, all the systems). There isn't a nation to tap on the shoulder to punish America when it does us harm. We don't have an Italy that can threaten America to do right by us or suffer the transactional consequences. There isn't a country to turn to to declare to America that they'll cease trade, that they'll cease the mining of their resources with if you don't do right by our fellow diaspora family. We can't do that because our country is America. Our homeland is America and for many that were here before colonization and long before it was “discovered”, it is our motherland. And this is why we are foundational to America. Rooted to America in totality. None of our ancestors immigrated here. Many were already here and many were brought here before the founding of this country (making them the only non-immigrant group here). Before the establishment of America. Long before 1492, 1526, 1619, 1776 and 1863. Our ancestors were the founders of America. We are Black American all the time—we don’t have anywhere to run to as a safe haven or sanctuary country and that is why we always remind America and make America live up to its creed.

Which is why we have to be so on code here in America, our homeland. So on code, that we've created a protective culture. Creating it was/is our way to insulate ourselves from the outside harms of those who were/are not of our lineage. Our protective culture was a response to the racist terror, discrimination and harm from the dominant white society. In our protection we created our own schools (HBCUs—(Mary Lumpkin, Mary McLeod Bethune) to educate ourselves. In Investing through founding and chartering Black owned banks (True Reformers Bank-Rev. William Washington Browne, U.S. Capital Savings Bank of Washington, Saint Luke Penny Bank-Maggie L. Walker, Unity National Bank). Why our great(great)-grands and grandparents and parents formed things like The Negro Motorist Green-Book, guiding Black Americans of the safe havens and sanctuary spots of Black-owned proprieties all over America. Our same great(great)-grand mothers and grandmothers were the baby-catchers of our matriarchs and built the community of doulas and midwives to ensure the safe births of newborns and mothers (Annie Mae Taylor-Jasper, Gladys Milton, Maria Milton). The Chitlin' Circuit was their entertainment network they created to give entertainers the freedom to tour and be safe while doing so. The inhabitation of the Great Dismal Swamp that was a refuge for our people who escaped slavery (Maroons). Established sanctuary cities filled with places that Black Americans occupied so that others could become a part of once they escaped for their freedom and founded freedmen’s municipalities—self-reliant, fully autonomous, self-sufficient, all-Black towns, cities and communities (Mound Bayou, MS,; Greenwood Tulsa, OK; Central Park, NY; Rosewood, FL; Sunnyside, TX; Brownlee, NE). We created the insular system of self health care. Healing and spiritual practices as well were/are protective measures. Through root work with faith healers, known as a traiteur or traiteuse down South, a Creole healer or a traditional healer (Ella Louise, Mary Stepp Burnette Hayden, Hermon Lee, Lucreaty Clark) and seers that imparted their therapeutic wisdom and acumen for both spiritual & physical breakthroughs on behalf of those who came to them for guidance, manifestation, deliverance. Making house calls too. What’s known as Black folk medicine was literally the beginnings of modern day medicine and these insular systems were the pioneers of the industry of hospital.

Self-care was also protective. They were so tapped in with their spiritual essence and clicked in and in tune with nature and plants that they knew what foods to grow in their own gardens and what minerals to combine to make concoctions to remedy ailments, injury and cure illnesses. Their healing intellect and expertise stopped plagues and diseases and many were rewarded for their life-saving by gaining their freedom as well as creating huge financial stability from their service (Biddy Mason, Dr. Jim Jordan). Our ancestors were the first unofficial doctors and biochemist before these industries were even a thing (Emma Dupree, Caroline Dye, George Washington Caver). “…the ineffectiveness of white medical traditions contributed to the reliance of the enslaved on folk medicine.”

From decades ago with The Harlem Renaissance to modern times with the Black American LGBTQ+community coming together to create their extended families within Ballroom culture. Formed not only to entertain and give space to creators in peace but to also protect and shelter one another.

We always innately had that protective spirit to survive and thrive and even help others. We had to come up with all systems and operations in order to protect ourselves from the anti-Blackness of living within our own country.

[to point out--Biden and his administration has yet to sign or pass the Anti-Black Hate Crime Bill, a bill dating back to 2015 that some federal lawmakers started making a topic in response to the Charleston massacre of nine innocent Black church members, the same bill that was readdressed to this admin after the Jacksonville massacre in 2023. As of today, we still lead in hate crime victims and are still massively targeted because of race but still no hate crime bill passed. He has less than a week left to fulfill anything Black American specific.; the midwifery network was so immaculate and efficient, it became trusted and sought out from white expecting mothers as well.]

The un-actualized, one-sided Pan African movement could've worked or is supposed to work in that way. There should be economic cells and enclaves as well as residential ones, educational ones and links setup all across the continent of Africa or in South America and the Caribbeans that act as bridges to link those of the diaspora to be able to traverse back and forth freely with provisions. Abroad those links should be in place but I have yet to see that they are. America has created a very exploitative, imperialistic relationship over many of these countries (continents) that makes this almost impossible to do but it is also worth mentioning that some of these majority Black countries and their leaders are also creating ominous relations with other countries that is very reflective of colonization years ago. Pan Africanism should be so established that when Black Americans suffer any injustice as a collective on such a large scale, the trading with Africa should temporarily cease until justice is served and until the constant injustice against Black Americans continue, then international transactions are put on pause. As was done here in America on behalf of South Africa to end apartheid—many Black Americans leaders, activists and athletes such as Rosa Park, Rev. Jesse Jackson, Coretta Scott King, Stevie Wonder and Arthur Ashe protested and were arrested for pressuring our own Congress to pass an act on behalf of South Africa. “By 1988, more than 155 academic institutions had fully or partially divested from South Africa, including the University of California, which withheld some $3 billion from the country. In addition, by 1989, 26 U.S. states, 22 counties and more than 90 cities had taken economic action against companies doing business in South Africa. U.S. groups also raised funds to help pay legal expenses for South African political prisoners and their families and organized boycotts of South African sporting events and cultural performances to show their solidarity with the South African people. Many U.S. churches also voiced their protest and found ways to apply economic pressure. The combined force of this decentralized group of American anti-apartheid activists finally pressured the U.S. Congress to pass the Comprehensive Anti-Apartheid Act of 1986, which imposed economic sanctions against South Africa until the government agreed to release Mandela and all political prisoners and entered into “good-faith negotiations” with the black majority. President Ronald Reagan vetoed the measure, but Congress overturned that veto and followed by voting for even more restrictive sanctions.” We forced our own country to take a stand for the systems of injustice in other countries.

But Black Americans can’t be the only group of the diaspora doing this activism. The sanctuary country can't only be the US for those who immigrate here. It can't be a one-sided, one-way movement because it doesn't help the collective. The Pan-Af movement to Black people who aren't Black American is foreign and quite frankly, is a movement they want to have nothing to do with. Another thing that is very noticeable is that when those who do immigrate here to the US, they have created their own enclaves with very distinct boundaries. Boundaries that make it very difficult and just outright impossible for Black Americans to become a part of. No matter that "we're all Black", many melanated immigrants do practice segregating and separating themselves from us. There are so many concentrated areas across the country where those of the diaspora that have come here have created and make it a point to not let us in. Black Americans are very welcoming (too welcoming to a fault) but that isn't reciprocated from other Black people within the diaspora. I honestly don't even know if any type of movement like this can really work. Sad to say, I think there are too many people of the diaspora that still have an attitude of "stay away from those Black Americans" so their idea of partnership with us is already non-existent and is hard to be successful — but the posturing of everyone else as deity and the quick willingness to partner with them is the complete opposite. Once again, delineation is very important -- why we are beginning to see Black Americans adopt the ethno-term of Foundational Black American culturally and are pushing for Freedman to become a distinct race/ethnic category for us. We are all Black yes, but we are still very different. There really isn’t a global Blackness in terms of how we have viewed it (not with the way Black Americans are so despised by other Black people in other countries). We don’t even view Black the same across the world. So, we aren’t all Black when it comes down to it. Especially not when you have some individuals with political power or influence attending hearings and town halls on reparations for Black Americans and they are opposed to it — and come to find out that they opposed it because they themselves are not Black American but of Black Caribbean and Black Latin (Afro Latino) descent but still melanated yet still undermining us. Not when we’ve had the first non-white President and Vice President oppose reparations for us. It makes all the sense now. Again, the hope I once had in the Pan African movement and global Blackness has dissolved and waned totally.

Even with a fractured legal framework that is directly against us, that's been forever, we are always staying right here, fighting our own country to apply its principles and standard of justice & freedom to us. We are always fighting to make our country stand in its democracy of our human rights. Reminding America to live up to the integrity it claims. The fight to always remain here in our motherland to replace the system of injustice with a real justice system for generations to come.

We have always resisted the mistreatment and have always stood up against the people and the system they put in place. Fighting in all American wars to battle for freedom (American Revolutionary War, 1812, Black Seminole, Civil War, WWs etc. — Buffalo Soldiers, Tuskegee Airmen), escaping slavery through self-emancipation and at times becoming spies once a war broke when those wars often times were incited because of the debate of slavery (Harriet Tubman, Ona Judge, Josephine Baker, Harriet Robinson-Scott, Mary Ellen Pleasant, Mary Elizabeth Bowser, Ellen & William Craft, Solomon Northup) rose in rebellion to the slavery with revolts (New York of 1712, Stono Rebellion 1739, Louisiana of 1811, Southampton Insurrection 1839), formed clandestine operations and networks on the course to liberating ourselves (Underground Railroad-coded messages stitched in quilts to guide those escaping for freedom [whether myth or not], Pattin' Juba), resisted presidential propositions to be expelled from the country, enacting movements (Civil Rights, Selma, Freedom Riders), becoming activists and staunch anti-slavery abolitionists (Sojourner Truth, Frances E. W. Parker, David Walker, Sarah Parker Redmond, Henry Highland Garnet, Peter and Sarah Mayrant Fossett) in the efforts to free their people long before 1863’s Emancipation and gained their own freedom and emancipated others (Jane Minor, Doctor Caesar), starting and participating in boycotts & protests (Baton Rouge bus, Montgomery bus), went on strikes that threatened to shutdown cities (Atlanta Washerwomen’s Strike 1881, Memphis Sanitation Strike 1968), self-defended as hoodoo (Julia “Aunt Julia” Brown, John the Conqueror) & voodoo (Marie Laveau) practitioners and conjurers — for good things on behalf of others and themselves & for righteous vengeance (Nat Turner), became martyrs by sacrificing their own lives and their progeny to no longer be under the chains of slavery (Anna Williams, Margaret Garner, Gabriel Posser) and suing former slave owners once their freedom was acquired (Henrietta Wood, Dred Scott, Belinda Sutton, Elizabeth Freeman) as well as implementing mass reparations plans for reparative, financial justice for slavery (Callie House, Rep. John Conyers, Dr. Claud Anderson). Y’all, we resist so much against the system of racism that they had to enact laws (Fugitive Slave Act) and even invent un-scholared, fictitious psychological disorder terms to counter our resistance and deviance to being enslaved (drapetomania).

Self-sufficiency is also an act of resistance in our food and cuisine too. Transforming the leftover, undesirable foods given into Soul Food that sustained us. Fed the entire plantation from each other to the slave masters and mistresses themselves (shrimp and grits, gumbo, fried chicken, red beans & rice, collards, chitlins, pig feet, hush puppies, Black eyed peas, barbecue, mac and cheese, cornbread). Not only did Soul Food sustain us by providing the nutrients we needed but the cuisine’s certain staples also stand to cure us and is symbolic for wealth and prosperity and to ward off evil spirits. Nutritional watermelon that’s associated to us gave us financial security at the ending of the Civil War and post-Emancipation. Our people would sometimes negotiate informal contracts with their owners to cultivate and sell their own crops on designated plots of land on the plantations they worked on. As watermelons were easy to grow, they became a popular choice. The newly freed Black Americans continued to eat and grow watermelons and sold them to generate income for themselves. A lot of our folks made a grip of money from selling watermelons! A cash-crop that gained them wealth. Watermelon is a symbol of freedom (liberation) and self-reliance for us! Hush puppies were used to distract bloodhounds off their trail when they were escaping. The culinary prowess in turning survival into art is resistance just as well. The Black Panther Party’s free breakfast program was an act of survival and resistance by feeding the young so they wouldn’t go hungry throughout the day to be able to effectively learn while in school—nourishing the minds and bodies to be the next generation.

There’s also resistance in the innovation and creation of our languages (Kouri-Vini, Tutnese “Tut”, Black American Vernacular English) to use as secret, coded barriers to go unrecognized against our oppressors and most importantly, to teach and learn spelling and reading when it was forbidden to us—and of it was discovered that we could, punishment followed, hence, the secrecy of these languages. In our naming practices too. Our parents uniquely created our names. “Black naming practices, so often impugned by mainstream society, are themselves an act of resistance. Our last names belong to the white people who once owned us. That is why the insistence of many Black Americans, particularly those most marginalized, to give our children names that we create, that are neither European nor from Africa, a place we have never been, is an act of self-determination.”

The desire and demand to educate themselves and others outweighed the punishable laws of not being permitted to read. And educators taught others to read and write clandestinely (Mary S. Peake, John Berry Meachum, Frances Ellen Watkins, Susie King Taylor). Defiance!

In our beauty also is resistance and rebellion. From headscarves to Afros! Because of the Tignon Law of 1803 that intended to somehow hide the beauty of our matriarchs by forcing them to cover their hair, they creatively made the very head wraps, headscarves and handkerchiefs elaborate and stylish!

Resistance in corrective actions to counter the stereotypes & exclusions by showcasing our beauty, talent and dignity through creating our own art. We created publications (JET magazine, Ebony, Essence, Fire!!, The New Negro, Negro Digest, Chicago Defender) illustrated radical cartoons within them (Jackie Ormes, Leslie Rogers, Jay Jackson) and wrote pieces, essays in them (Alain Locke, Wallace Thurman, Countee Cullen, Claude McKay, Gwendolyn Brooks), and record labels (Motown), founded their own media to platform their people (Don Cornelius, Bob Johnson, Cathy Hughes), fashion & fashion brands (Zelda Wynn Valdes, Maxine Powell, Dapper Dan, Ruth Carter, Daymond John), motion pictures and film industry (Oscar Micheaux, Keenen Ivory Wayans, Tyler Perry, Spike Lee, Julie Dash, Kasi Lemmons, Robert Townsend), authored books to preserve our culture (Toni Morrison, Octavia Spencer, Zora Neale Hurston, Ernest Gaines) and sculpted, painted, textiled, printmaking, photographed and quilted to redefine and reimagine ourselves (Faith Ringgold, the women of Gee’s Bend in Nettie Young, Harriet Powers, Ernie Barnes, Augusta Savage, Elizabeth Catlett, Kara Walker, Gordon Parks).

Resistance in our musical anthems as protest to challenge injustice and instill pride, often at the extreme detriment of their very lives by being targeted (Billie Holiday “Strange Fruit”, Nina Simone “Mississippi Goddam”, Edwin Starr “War”, Marvin Gaye “What’s Going On”, Sounds of Blackness “Optimistic”, Michael Jackson “They Don’t Care About Us”, James Brown “Say It Loud - I'm Black and I'm Proud”, Public Enemy “Fight The Power”, Sister Souljah “The Hate That Hate Produced”). Singers and musicians stood against the institution of not only American racism, segregation and helped to fund movements but abroad against the Nazi regime and performed at integrated venues and were arrested because of it (Ella Fitzgerald, Dizzie Gillespie, Mahalia Jackson, Marian Anderson). Defiance.

Resistance in sports in showing solidarity to expose the injustice and mistreatment of Black Americans by their acts of defiance and boycotting (Tommie Smith, Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf, Venus Williams, Serena Williams).

Black actors, actresses, writers, poets and playwrights were falsely placed on the Red Scare list and activists and leaders were listed in illegal FBI projects as “threats” and many were assassinated simply because they demanded America to treat us as human beings and wouldn’t keep quiet about it (Lena Horne, Paul Robeson, Langston Hughes, Richard Wright, Lorraine Hansberry, Malcom X, Martin Luther King, Medgar Evers, Fred Hampton, Fannie Lou Hamer, Darren Seales, Deandre Joshua). Resistance.

They pioneered their ways into the entertainment industry that was set from the beginnings to denigrate us and defied the Hollywood machine becoming first in many ways by showcasing their immense gift of acting and beauty (Hattie McDaniel, Della Reese, Teresa Graves, Dorothy Dandridge, Vanessa Williams, Diahann Carroll, Denzel Washington, Whoopi Goldberg).

Resistance in not allowing our musical genres to continue to be hijacked by always creating records and albums to showcase the limitless gift (Linda Martell, Whitney Houston, Mickey Guyton, Darius Rucker, Prince, Tina Turner, Little Richard, Beyoncé, Rapsody).

From Margaret’s martyrdom, to Callie’s mutual assistance/self-help organization, to Nat’s slave revolt, to Ida’s efficacy of international shaming. We have always resisted the conditions through uprisings, rebellions, revolts, fighting, boycotts, strikes, protests, migration, creating our own networks and international shaming. From laundresses, to athletes, to journalists, to abolitionists, to artists, to filmmakers, to authors, to doulas. Resisting has always been our method of disrupting the system of our oppression and our resistance worked as a form of getting back our agency!

All ways we've always sought and gained freedom by refusing to accept the subjugation through our resistance. We've even stood up against the injustice on behalf of others militarily (Colonel John Charles Robinson), self-enlisting despite the discriminatory practices to keep us out (The 6888th Battalion) to help others in other countries in their fight for their own liberation and even resisting by rejecting potential forced enlistment when wars were not warranted at the huge risk of their own livelihood, reputations and careers (Muhammad Ali, Eartha Kitt).

Historically, morally and culturally, the spirit of resistance is always what we possess.

...there aren’t too many incidents or events of this happening for us. Where the same has been done for Black Americans. At this point in time, we need to just face reality and know this. Only WE will fight for us.

For every ancestor of ours that gained their liberation all on their own and freed others…resistance!

For every ancestor of ours that said, “No” to presidential propositions of sending them to to foreign land after emancipation…resistance!

For every ancestor of ours that relocated to new territory through their action of migration in solidarity for one another against the terror inflicted upon them…resistance!

For every ancestor of ours like the revolutionary Ida B. Wells that didn’t back down to being threatened with death and harm for going to a whole ‘nother country to internationally shame America…defiance & resistance!

Us presently being here here today as their descendants alone is resistance!

I'm absolutely beginning to understand why the term Foundational Black American is being used by more of us. Because our direct lineage ties are here. We are the only non-immigrant group in America. This is our land. Our motherland. What is America today only is because of our ancestors--their unpaid, endless hours of brutal labor, intellectual capital, physical power and ingenuity literally built this country up. They created American culture with their innovative minds, made America the powerhouse it is, made America the standard. We are the architects of culture - here and all over the globe. The architects of politics because every inception of policies and laws were because of us. Our ancestors built this country! Their being has watered the tree of America. America doesn’t exist without the presence of Foundational Black Americans. “We gave birth to ourselves. We forged a new culture of our own.” Our ancestors—They are the founding of America, therefore, they are the foundation of it. Making us Foundational Black Americans as their descendants. That is our ethnic group. And there is so, so, so much pride in our lineage and bloodline! I am proud!

In the lyrical words of Beyoncé, “My family lived and died in America. Good ol' USA. Whole lotta red in that white and blue. History can't be erased.”

The lineage has always existed. Our HERITAGE has always been here. Our ROOTS and CULTURE are right here, in the United States of America! We KNOW WHO WE ARE!

Foundational Black American.

[uniquezombiedestiny]

I don't want you to forget me I want you to die with me. I miss you I should have lived. I love you. Why are you putting these words in my mouth?

(artfight attack for @tsunagite, ft. reinhardt :3)

[ahalliance]

how do i turn qantoine’s spontaneous marriage proposal to qetoiles into evidence of his early-days fear of qfrench drifing away and keeping secrets from one another

[hood-ex]

Man, I can't believe I used to read every NW issues the very day they came out, even during the amnesia arc. And then TT took over and very quickly I stopped cause it sucked so much and it feels like every issue was a nail in the proverbial coffin and now this zur shit and Dick being so dumb and incompetent feels like they're throwing cement on top lmao

Yeah it's kinda just same shit, different day. Something actually enjoyable with Dick feels more like a rare treat now, and it usually happens outside of the Nightwing run.