oh no, now I'm imagining Dick opening jars for 14-yo Tim during Prodigal
Tim doesn't even think to ask him at first; his dad wasn't at home often enough for it be a habit, and like hell was he gonna ask the older boys at boarding school to open stuff for him like he couldn't do it himself :/ and while staying at Wayne Manor, well, with Alfred around the jars were without fail already open by the time they reached the table.
so when it's just the two of them, fending for themselves both on Gotham's streets as Batman and Robin and in the Manor's kitchen as Dick and Tim, it doesn't occur to Tim to ask.
Dick watches him wrestle with the jam jar like it's Killer Croc for a long minute, chin propped in one hand and eyebrow raised in amusement. Then he just reaches over and plucks it out of Tim's grasp with a casual, "Here, kiddo. Let me."
now, Dick could tap the jar against the edge of the counter, all around the stubborn lid. or he could run it under warm water. or gently twist his warm hands round and round the metal rim to heat and loosen it that way. teach Tim all the standard tricks of the jar-opening trade.
but for some reason, he doesn't.
instead, under Tim's startled, expectant gaze, Dick finds himself taking firm hold with the vise grip of his trapeze artist hands, flashing the kid a showy grin, and just twisting with a hard flex of muscle.
the loud pop isn't half as satisfying as the beam of admiration on Tim's face.
Dick should feel silly. jeez, it's not like he suplexed a Rogue right in front of the kid or caught him out of a 10-storey fall or anything.
(who's more ridiculous - Tim for being impressed by so little, or Dick for feeling so undeniably smug about it?)
(is his life seriously such a mess that wowing the baby Robin with feats of basic domestic competence counts as a win? seriously? get a grip, Grayson.)
"yeah, yeah - I loosened it up for you!" Tim laughs, but when Dick hands him the jar with one hand and scrubs vigorously through his hair with the other, he can still see his little brother's pleased smile as he attempts to duck away.
so Dick keeps doing it. Tim always insists on having a go at it himself, first, but shoving stubborn jars at Dick with that expectant look quickly becomes automatic.
it's a Thing. like many Things about Tim, it could easily be annoying, but somehow it manages to be endearing instead.
maybe that's just how little brothers work.
Dick does teach the kid how to do laundry and fold clothes and replace broken windows and cook basic meals for himself because he's not about to do all the work in this big old empty house, but he never does teach him how to open stuck jars.
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While I'm in a rental and I know it can't be guaranteed to stay, I'm going to plant Richmond Birdwing Vine (pararistolochia praevenosa), Purple Violet (viola betonicifolia), and Native Violet (viola hederacea).
They're the host plants for the Richmond Birdwing and Australian Fritillary butterflies, and I keep seeing that post about a man in America who helped out significantly I think with the California pipevine swallowtail.
There's so much I can't do to help with the environment, but planting a vine I'll need to trim in my own yard alongside a handful of other native plants and having a bit of a veggie garden helps myself, my family, and some animals in the area.
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and another thing!!!
frieren is a series where to love is to remember!! we see frieren and co. taking care of the statues because it's an act of love!!! constantly, continuously, affection is carrying someone's memory forward!! himmel wants a thousand statues so frieren isn't lonely!! so that they don't fade into fairy tales!!
and then!!! and then!! you give us macht??? the gold he makes is worthless!! because it cannot be changed, it cannot be broken, it cannot be melted!! because the point isn't that it's "gold" the point is that it freezes a moment, it makes a monument that will never fade nor tarnish!! what is that if not an act of love??
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So Dungeons and Daddies Season 2 is really just taking the average coming-of-age story and making it to every horrifying extreme, huh.
It is that moment in which you realize your parents don't know what they're doing any better than you do, and people present it like it's something comforting, but it's just even more terrifying because there really, really is no right answer. It's realizing that no, love isn't enough, sometimes you love your family and it just made everything worse. Everyone who came before you fucked things up even when they were trying to make things better, and unfucking everything just seems impossible, but not even trying is such a depressing option, and one your kids will never be able to forgive you for.
I have many feelings on this.
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Sometimes, the biggest problem in the Kazansky-Mitchell household is the dishwasher that isn't clear as it should. The pair of red underwear with white shirts that makes everything pink and as Ice laughing for days and then he puts on the same shirt to go to important meetings because it's such an inconsequential thing buy makes him happy and as Mav texting all day with scenario's of how different people are going to react to that new color. And sometimes it's no more milk in the fridge, one egg instead that two so no homemade pancake Mav! just to be solved by so I can take you out for a breakfast date, Kazansky?
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