So I Got Into Grad School Today With My Shitty 2.8 Gpa And The Moral Of The Story Is Reblog Those Good

i can no longer take any description of a male protagonist seriously if the writer describes him as ‘brooding’

because i used to think ‘oh, that’s sexy and mysterious, etc’

and now i think of this

once you’ve been loudly cussed out by 2.5 lbs of feathers, that word only ever means one thing

oh snap

Look. This is so fucking funny. Okay? Okay.

The original trio has already seen so many horrors.

No matter how much Obi-Wan complains, Anakin would insist on telling his kids Obi-Wan is their grandpa.

The Fair Folk: “I can’t believe this. Twenty years I’ve cleaned your house and you DARE to try to REPAY me with GIFTS. This is such an insult. Fuck you, you insolent humans. I’m leaving here and never returning because you have insulted me so deeply.”

Also the Fair Folk: “Remember that one time you pulled a thorn out of a cat’s foot? That was me. To show my gratitude, here is a house made of solid gold, a life-debt, my daughter’s hand in marriage, and a promise that all your children will be gorgeous and successful at all that they do. I can also throw in a blow job if you want. I hope this is enough. I don’t want to seem ungrateful.”

I love you, Mr. Murderbritches.

One of the running themes in "humans are space orcs" circles is the idea that humans will bond with anything. I can think of plenty of stories of humans making friends with wild animals, alligators, predators, creatures that aliens would immediately recognize as too dangerous for contact. But I was reading a story about two orangutans released back into the wild today and there's a certain element to that story I haven't seen so often: humans will bond with animals regardless of whether the bond is reciprocal.

For every story of a human making friends with some unlikely creature, there are dozens of stories of conservation specialists tranquilizing animals, tending to their wounds or illness, and releasing them because they're too dangerous to handle consciously. Stories of tagging birds of prey and timber wolves and Siberian tigers. Fat Bear Week? Any of those bears would rip your face off without hesitation. But they're round and fluffy and intimidating and beautiful and we love them even though they hate us. We make an effort to protect our monsters, because we love our monsters.

Imagine an alien planet that's experiencing ecological degradation. Their flora is dying, and they can't figure out why. And, offhandedly, in a diplomatic mission, an allied planet mentions that humans have successfully reversed similar devastation on Earth. So they reach out and Earth sends some experts to check it out. And what do they suggest? Reintroducing an apex predator that used to be a scourge against alien settlements. The species still exists in other regions of the planet, but it is slowly disappearing outside of its native habitat.

The aliens are askance. They've told bedtime stories to their young of these creatures: how they tear apart their prey, how they've eaten their organs and rip apart their homes. Some suggest that it's a trick—that the humans are trying to prompt them into destroying themselves.

But there are many alien cultures on this planet, with many different stories and some of them agree. The world watches in anticipation as the humans help their predators. They seek them out, these fearless otherworlders, putting them to sleep and tending their wounds. They keep track of the beasts, not to harm them, but to protect them.

At first the doomsayers' prophecy seems to come true. The predators devour prey animals like a feast, like a slaughter to people who have never been so close to the circle of life. But then, slowly, not over months but over years, comes change. The prey no longer eat the leaves and buds of every tree; some are left to bloom and fall. The refuse rots in the dirt, and the floods cease as the soil grows thick with compost and rotted bone, thick enough to hold water. The shapes of rivers change to protect their surroundings from the rain. The pollinators rebound.

Decades later, other cities and nations begin to accept this human myth of "conservation." Champions arise, alien champions, now, who go into the depths of the wilderness and the seas to protect those predators from the apathy of time.

Not all of them make it. This is something else the humans teach. Sometimes the tranquilizers are not enough. Sometimes the timing is wrong. Sometimes accidents happen. And when they do, the aliens look to humans for an answer for why they should protect these creatures who have killed those they love?

"Because they knew the risks," the humans say. "Because they would be the first to speak to save them. Because they taught you to see the beauty in the wild and you must not close your eyes."

So, despite themselves, they don't.

I think what appeals to me about Jason and Tim’s relationship (and what I think DC is sleeping on), is that you have two people with these deep hurts and hopes that are intrinsically wrapped up in the existence of the other person. And therefore through building a relationship with that other person, there is healing and resolution to be found. In a purely platonic sense, I think they can “complete” each other.

For Jason, Tim is a Replacement. He’s the kid who came along and provided a successful model for Robin in a morbid kind of A-B testing. He’s also a proxy for everything Jason thinks Bruce did and is doing wrong. We’ve seen how Jason speaks to his younger self; he’s ashamed of him, he’s scared for him, and crucially, he thinks he’s beyond saving (check out this awesome post by @you-only-live-twice). Tim is the Robin who survived (and survived Jason’s multiple attempts on his life no less). That Jason tries to kill Tim while simultaneously trying to recruit him reveals the ferocious insecurity Tim ignites in him, as well as a no-shit Sophoclean drive to emulate/replace Batman; Tim being a perfect totem. This post by @sohotthateveryonedied points out that whole hoo-ha both hilariously and comprehensively.

For Tim, yes, Jason is a cautionary tale. But Jason’s death is also the demon Tim is spurred to save Bruce from; first trying to convince Dick to take up the mantle again, then ultimately assuming the role himself.  Most important in this is, without Jason dying, there is no Tim as Robin. Leaning somewhat erroneously on death and rebirth myths like the Egyptian Osiris; the prince died and he was reborn, but his life-force was split: Jason, who becomes an abjuration of the bright and bold pixie-booted young Jason, and Tim, the changeling who–it can be argued–usurps Jason’s “throne.” When Tim himself is eventually ousted by a younger model who also invokes blood lineage, Damian, we see all of these insecurities and proprietary anxieties rear up in full. Tim is be-Jasoned. Sort of.

So, what can Tim and Jason offer each other? A completeness. A centre. One which does hold. Dogged by feelings of rejection and lost capital, Jason and Tim offer each other a beautiful kind of grace. Balance too, as we have the broad, passionate Jason and the slender, calculating Tim. The Robin who couldn’t-be and the Robin who shouldn’t-be. I think that’s beautiful and would love to see more of it.

people reminisce about “Pokemon Go summer” with everyone outside together and when the Venom movie came out and everything was cheeky and horny for awhile, and other such cultural phenomena’s

but you know what I think we should take into our hearts again? Neko Atsume

we were all collecting cats like it was our job and giving tips on how to get different sightings. There was no higher purpose, no higher power, only community built upon the tiny furry backs of fake cats.

May we all one day return to the Neko Atsume game in the sky