#like it's a good book and so many people like them

[masterflight8058]

This is so ridiculous that I hate even responding to it, and I know that I have a better chance of convincing a whale to prowl the Serengeti than for the poster to actually read my response with a half way open mind, but for the possibility of just one person reading this and taking it to heart I will sacrifice my time.

First things first, Donald Trump has said again and again that he is not going to touch abortion, this issue deserves to be a state issue and most states have law on the books that provides for abortion. Any claims beyond this are flat lies.

Numerous things are presented here and I want to address them individually. First I’ve been there, we thought my wife was pregnant for a while early in our marriage, a time when neither of us felt ready or wanting to go that direction that early in our marriage. We never considered any option besides keeping the child. Very, very briefly (minutes) I considered the “what if” of if we blessed another couple who could not have kids of their own. There are so many options out there for situations like this. However it is exceptionally selfish to prioritize your comfort or convenience over another life (or even the possibility of another life).

Every single state without exception has verbiage allowing full on abortion if the life of the mother is compromised. Look it up I challenge you. Beyond that every doctor promises a standard such as the Hippocratic oath, to do no harm. Knowingly allowing a patient to die like this is at minimum medical malpractice and has nothing to do with abortion law. This lie while emotionally tugging is so very blatantly a lie that it is absurd that it is still being pushed.

I would love to see an example of the legal statute that gives any male coach any excuse to “strip off her pants and peep at her genitals.” Then the poster brings up trans issues, I have no idea why that’s here, I cannot find any way to link that to this discussion. No coach should EVER be alone in a private location with ANY child under their leadership, it’s never good or appropriate. I won’t even go into the suicide statistics for situations like this, they are no where near as bad as the poster claims.

The poster claims as many as hundreds of thousands of people are going to die as a result of this, beyond that being ridiculous and an insult to any reader’s intelligence by even presenting such an absurd number; over a hundred million abortions have taken place since 1973, that is a known number.

Lastly as I stated this is all moot as Trump is not going to touch federal abortion law, and they are already legal in most states with many more laws passed in yesterday’s elections. I will say I am proud of all the lives that will be undoubtedly saved by my vote for Donald J Trump, a reduction in armed conflict, a safer country due to improved border security, and for so many other reasons.

To the men who voted for Donald Trump today:

When your girlfriend gets pregnant, and you’re not ready to become a father, and you’re forced into a position that cripples you emotionally, financially and irreversibly, remember: you did this.

When your sister’s pregnancy turns out to be ectopic, and she can’t get the life-saving medical care she needs and dies a completely pointless, preventable death, remember: you did this.

When your 12-year-old daughter is raped by her soccer coach — after he’s legally allowed to strip off her pants and peep at her genitals, because the existence of trans kids terrifies you — and she steals your shotgun and kills herself in your garage, remember, first and foremost: you did this.

Hundreds of thousands of people are going to die because of the decision you made today.

You did that.

[sunshowersanddandelionwine]

au where soap is medically discharged and doesn’t really have a “purpose” anymore. He enlisted so young, and had been in the military for so long that he’s got no fucking idea what to do next. In the end, he moves in with his oldest sister and her kids after his brother-in-law passes away suddenly.

While getting his feet back under him, he takes up drawing again. More seriously this time than just doodles on paperwork and scribbles on briefing notes. But real illustrations. It starts as a way to keep his hands occupied while idle at home, but then it becomes an actual hobby of his. He gets better and better, watching YouTube tutorials to learn things he wouldn’t have picked up otherwise.

It’s his 15 year old niece that gets everything rolling. She (without his knowledge) sets up a social media account to share his art. But a very specific series of art. See, he started illustrating the stories his 5 year old nephew told him. And the art, just like the stories, are mindblowing. Soap didn’t do it for recognition, but his niece insisted on sharing his work with the world.

The account starts to get a following, and when his niece shows it to him he nearly has a breakdown. But then he sees the comments. Parents of kids who feel seen in his art. Young self taught artists feeling seen through him. A whole community of people who connected with his work on such a deeper level than anything he’d expected. So, begrudgingly, he lets her continue to post.

Then comes the storefront. With prints and merch and all sorts of wild ass things he’d never dreamed of. And while the income is modest, it still an income. For a while, a part of him had felt guilty for “mooching” off his sister (despite her protests to the contrary) and now he can really start contributing to the household. Plus, a little bit of each sale gets squirreled away for his niece and nephew. Since without them, this whole thing wouldn’t be happening.

And then the email comes. It’s innocuous at first, something he’s gotten a number of times. The sender asks him if he’s willing to illustrate for an upcoming project with a children’s book author. They’d seen his work online and thought his style would match perfectly with the book. Initially, soap was going to politely decline the offer. As much as he’d come to accept the minor fame he’d gotten online, he didn’t think he was good enough to actually illustrate something for a traditional publication. But then he sees the sender’s signature.

S. Riley.

Not much was known about Riley as a person. Their personal life, much like their first name, was kept down tight under lock and key. But their books were beloved by so many, including Soap and his family. Riley wrote on topics that not a lot of other children’s book authors dared to touch, and not with the deft and delicate hand necessary to properly tackle them. Things like parental abuse, neglect, trauma, death; there wasn’t a subject Riley was scared of, and there wasn’t a subject that they handled with anything less than the utmost grace. Their book on dealing with grief and loss had gotten Soap’s niblings (and his sister, to be perfectly honest) through those first few months after their father’s death.

So, despite his misgivings and anxieties, soap accepts.

(Across the country, one Simon Riley waits with bated breath to see if his nephew Joseph’s (and his) mysterious favorite artist will say yes. For no other reason than professional curiosity. It definitely has nothing to do with the briefest glimmer of a bright blue eye caught in the corner of a recent post.)

[toxiccaves]

not as huge on this site but i need ppl to remember to not feed the trolls. If its that outlandish, leave it. Block and report. If you reply ANYTHING, at least try to be respectfully educational. Because these people are genuinly uneducated on the matter, and have been fed so much propaganda that they're somehow this self righteous without caring about their own rights at the same time.

Remain above them. Don't stoop to their level. If an attempt to educate turns into sealioning, leave. No more ratio wars for internet points. We either try to make a difference one person at a time, or not raise hateful voices or give them the engagement they're craving.

[deeppenguinstudent]

I don't care. I will ALWAYS defend Thea muldani. You guys talk about the age range between Kevin and Thea, which is so dumb because Kevin was 18 and Thea was 21. That is basically Jerejean's age range (22 and 19), which is 3 YEARS. And I don't see anyone talking about Jeanne's age range? (19 and 24).

To the people saying that got mad that she said, "Are you sure ur not up to ur old tricks again?" literally just what? Please, please read her wiki because the reason she said that was because she thought tetsuji was the one who beat him up, NOT riko.

She was the ONLY one so far that even questioned riko's authority and acknowledged he was a bastard (somewhat). She's not fucking blinded by the Nest. She's JUST Exy obsessed like Kevin!!

Also let's talk about this?

The rumours had gotten so bad that both the master and Kevin also believed Riko's words? How the hell was Thea supposed to know anything? She was a victim as well and it just annoys me so much when people use this to just completely stain her character and make her a huge bitch. She's literally a dark skinned woman. Even tetsuji told her that she has to work twice as hard because people wouldn't take her seriously. If she even had an inkling of an idea knowing what they did to him, she would fuck them up

Also the reason why no one batted their eyes was because the Ravens fucking eachother is completely normal. It's some sort of screwed up thing that's been going on for generations, even before Riko and Kevin had joined Evermore.

To the people who say Thea does not care about Jean I will literally chew your lungs BECAUSE HAVE WE BEEN READING THE SAME BOOK.

Do you guys not realise how close Jean and Thea truly were? Thea and Kevin were the only two that Jean actually had a good relationship with in the Nest. Just look at the text!! Thea is one of Jean's weaknesses because he trusts her so much, and we know that Jean always blurts out shit he's not supposed to when he's beside people he really trusts (Neil, Jeremy, Kevin)

Her little parisian duckling! He literally followed her everywhere 🙁🙁 Gosh they mean so much to me. (Also, the reference to Elodie's duck dress and Thea's way of calling him?)

Last bit. I just find their relationship is just watered down SOOOO much because people hate Thea for unconventional reasons. You can dislike her character for sure, but I feel like a lot of people have so many misconceptions about her so I just wanted to clear it up!!

Please Nora give us more Thea and Jean in TSC2 😔😔😔

Edit: Sexual grooming is the action or behavior used to establish an emotional connection with a minor under the age of consent and sometimes the child's family to lower the child's inhibitions with the objective of sexual abuse. This is the definition of grooming btw and it's confirmed that Thea dated two other people when Kevin was a minor and didn't think of him like that until he was a freshman in college ie 18 years old?? It's completely different because she wasn't even pursuing him at all??

[sassydefendorflower]

Holy Server B@tman! Fanfic Rec List 2.0

Hello and welcome back to a very special fanfic rec list! 

The members of the amazing Holy Server B@tman! Server are an extremely talented bunch - many great artists and writers together in one place to foster each other’s creativity and joy to participate in fandom.

That has to be celebrated! 

So, please welcome a list of stories our writers loved to create, their very own Greatest Hits!

(please click on your own discretion - you’ll find the appropriate warnings on ao3)

Fujiwhara Effect by byrambles / @byrambles

Fujiwhara Effect: When two tropical cyclones spinning in the same direction pass so close to each other than they begin spinning around a common center. Or: Dick is NOT a fan of Bruce’s new kid (seriously, WHO brings home a new kid weeks after the old one moves out and then doesn’t even have the courtesy to tell – ). When he gets trapped in Gotham by an East Coast hurricane, though, he has to figure out how to be in the same room as Jason without losing it.

byrambles's words: This was so much fun to write! I think it has a sweet mix of angst and fluff — plus a silly little surprise part-way through!

The Lines that Bond Us by canaf_lilah

Reclusive author Bruce Wayne's most recent book, The Bat Man, was a critical success and a mass market flop. As he struggles to make sense of a sequel, he shocks no one more than himself when he brings home recently orphaned Dick Grayson. Bruce could never have predicted the impact on his life - and his writing - the remarkably resilient young acrobat would have. Batman and Robin may only exist on the pages of Bruce's books, but that doesn't stop them from saving the people they touch.

Lilah's words: to me this is by far the best fic I've ever written. I'm determined to finish it one day, but don't be too put off by the incomplete status! It works well as a standalone.

red like blood (they won't wash clean) by silver_the_phoenix

Tim snaps. It's a lot bloodier than he thought it would be.

Silver's words: I started this one because Tim deserves to go a little feral, as a treat; and I finished it because I'm a simp for Good Brother Jason Todd.

Cared For by 1Zukoneedsafamily2 / @trashcollectshere

Jason smirked as he stood over The Replacement. He stroked the feathers of the splayed-out wings, before he gripped a group of feathers and yanked. Not hard enough to pull out feathers but he wanted him awake when the fun started.

Krys' words: also everyone loves a tower fic right???

Brother, Go Find Your Brother by sleepingcreep (JaySgrech) / @misplacedspleen

Brother, go find your brother: A method of finding something lost by attempting to lose something similar in the same way, in the hopes that it gets lost in the same place and both can be found. “You should match, right?” The grin cracked wider as the lanky captor rolled the knife between their fingers, strolling closer to where Tim was pinned to the wall. Jason didn’t comprehend what the creep meant, too focused on trying to pull his hands against the cuffs in the right way to pop his thumb out of place to get free. There are many years of scars between Jason and Tim before they match.

Jay's words: I'm reccing it because I'm proud of how the settings turned out and I think I wrote a unique take on Jason and Tim's relationship

dirt piling up, putting me to bed by rutaceae / @applejee

Jason never imagined that a simple trip to a bookshop could end with him trapped in the basement of a collapsed building with Tim, but you don't often get what you imagined when you live in Gotham.

Luka's words: i’m quite happy with how contained this little fic is (for me); i always wanted to stab someone, and have someone else panic so bad they don’t realise they’re fucked up themself. fun times!!

Do-Si-Do's Churros & Other Curious Things About Love by sElkieNight60 / @selkienight60

Being a beta in a house full of alpha’s is rough. Especially if you’re trying to be heard.

Selkie's words: I like it because I really enjoy reading Platonic Omegaverse stories, and the Batfamily are so unrepresented here, (I say, in the meaning that I simply crave more of them, there are truthfully quite a few out there, but I just enjoy them so much).

Maui Melon Mint by motleyfam / @motleyfam

In the case of Bats vs. Stomach Bug, there can only be one victor.

Motley's words: I had a ton of fun writing from Damian’s POV for a change and letting Alfred wear his sassy pants

Writer's Cellblock by pinstripedJackalope / @the-ghost-of-jason-todd

Mystery writer and father to five, Bruce Wayne has no great fortunes to fall back on. No reserve of social charisma, no family jewels. He no longer has a butler, though Alfred does his best to visit regularly. He is, in short, not the kind of man who can buy freedom. Heck, he can barely make ends meet some months. So you can understand the… concern… he feels when, late one night, two FBI agents come knocking at his door.

K's words: ngl it was hard to pick a fic, and i would have picked one with more than one chapter but i always did think this one was kind of fun

Golden Silence, Golden Yolks by BabblingBookends / @babblingbookends

Words between Dick and Bruce have never been easy. Dick talks, Bruce doesn’t listen. Bruce talks, Dick is expected to listen. Better if neither of them speak at all.

Babbles' words: If you watch a TV show for long enough, there will inevitably be some character moments in a diner, and I just think that's fun, hence this fic!

keep your head up (it's a cruel world) by lookforanewangle / @lookforanewangle

“If the past is anything to go on, sir,” he says kindly, “this boy will be in your care for a good many lifetimes, and you will do all you can to keep him safe, just like you have with the others.” Or, the Batfam/The Old Guard reverse verse au with Dick's introduction to the world of immortals

Lyss' words: I put a lot of work into this one and while I know reverse verse isn't everyone's cup of tea, I think it works best in this universe in this order, with many surprises yet to come, and room for this universe to grow!

A Promise to Stay by xerzi / @xerziartblog

No one needed Tim Drake, but Tim Drake still needed to be needed. And well, who better to choose than the one person who could never stop needing him? So inherently broken that his job would never be finished. Yet so unfortunately resilient that he would never be left the sole survivor. And so desperate to serve that he would never be betrayed again. In other words, no one else needed Tim Drake, but certainly, he knew there was someone who could make use of his particular skill set. - Tim Drake, 12-year-old independent adult, professional birdwatcher, is offered everything he’s ever wanted…for the low, low price of his verbal agreement. All he has to do is say yes.

Xerzi's words: I just want to put Tim Drake in a jar and try to figure out what's wrong with him…so I put TWO Tim Drakes in the same jar so they can work together to figure out what's wrong with them (and how to fix it)

The End of Man by AuroraKant / @sassydefendorflower

Dick Grayson wasn’t meant to be caged in, but then again… Dick Grayson wasn’t a murderer, and look at him now. (was this what insanity felt like?) Dick Grayson gets captured, forced to shift, and put into a cage - surely, this is the worst that can happen?

Aurora's words: Look... I always wanted to write a deranged Shifter AU in which Dick Grayson goes absolutely mental. What can I say? I love it when my boy is broken and covered in blood <3

Catching Stars and Comets by Faeriekit

From this tumblr prompt: "Reverse Robins AU but instead of making Damian oldest and going down the line so on and so forth, it’s a bunch of assembled weird vigilante-crime men and their accidentally adopted autistic eight year old rich boy, Bruce, who calls himself “batkid” for reasons beyond their mutual understanding of expected kid behavior."

Faeriekit's words: it's been a fun AU to work on, I hope people enjoy it, also it's got kids. It's basically an ageswap!AU where all the batkids are "villains" without Bruce's influence. And it was either this fic or the bees.

cardboard box by A_Canceled_Stamp / @a-canceled-stamp

Robin!Tim is exposed to Ivy's cuddle pollen. For the first time, he reaches out to Bruce for help. How he wishes he hadn't.

Stamp's words: this is my first hurt/no comfort fic and I am very happy with how it turned out! The comments I've gotten on it always make me cackle lmao

a flower called you has bloomed by dottie_dc / @dottie-wan-kenobi

The real problem is that, well. Last time Tim went undercover, he kind of… came home and embarrassed himself. It’s not that he��s shy about being seen in disguise, okay? They can all tease him all they want but it doesn’t bother him. He has way more blackmail on his siblings than they do him, so whatever. It’s just… Caroline Hill is a different story.

Dottie's words: I saw the inspo art and it gave me immediate motivation to write something, which was really fun. I loved writing it and seeing people in the comments be able to relate. queer headcanons my beloved <3

Of The Covenant by Kgraces / @kgraces

Dick Grayson is many things, and foremost among those, he's a detective. He can't stop himself from noticing things about Tim Drake — things that make him question not only his home life but his relationship with Bruce Wayne, too. (Things spiral from there.)

Gracie's words: I’m gonna toss my current longfic your way so hopefully it motivates me to work on it more lmao. It’s a Dick & Tim fic where Dick basically takes a look at all the adults in Tim’s life and goes “is anyone going to take care of this feral, unsupervised child? No? Guess he’s my responsibility now.”

Now and Then by librarylexicon / @librarylexicon

Dick’s spent the past few months recovering from an ordeal he’d rather not think about, so when Bruce asks him to spend quality time with Tim outside of their masks, he instantly agrees. Amid conversations, itineraries, nightmares, photos, revelations and a whole lot of chocolate, he and Tim navigate the Great Ocean Road—and learn more about themselves and each other along the way.

lily's words: Dick and Tim are my favourite Batboys, so I've been wanting to write a fic about them for a long time, because of their long history and close brotherly relationship in the comics. This story is a love letter to their bond, and I'm very pleased with the way all the emotional whump turned out!

How to tape a card castle by Fleur_de_Violette / @fleur-de-violette

Dick saves the new Robin one day. This is it. This is all. It’s not that he doesn’t want to have a relationship with Jason, it’s just that it’s too complicated. He doesn’t know how to deal with being an adult on top of being Nightwing. He can’t deal with Jason, with what Jason represents, on top of it. Except, when a small injury doesn’t heal up the way it’s supposed to, he ends up being the one who needs saving and he’s finally forced to face the new Robin.

Violette's words: This is my longest published fic so far ! I really enjoyed writing it, both the Robin Jason and Dick part and the little case stories in between and I'm happy about how it turned out!

See You At Your Worst by wildsofmarch / @wildsofmarch

Dick has only been a mob enforcer for six months, but delivering a shipment of guns to an up-and-coming crime lord in Gotham should have been easy. All he needs to do is win the man's trust and secure him as a repeat customer. Unfortunately, the Red Hood is not impressed with him.

Wilds' words: I like this one because I go ham with the identity porn!

The Nature of Things by FidotheFinch / @fidothefinch

After a mission gone wrong and a spat with Drake, Robin is benched. Worse than that: Damian is grounded. As serendipity would have it, it gives Damian the opportunity to facilitate the rehabilitation of the manor's new ward, a dog Batman rescued from a fighting ring.

Fido's words: I got to memorialize pieces of my childhood pups in this story, and it was my first fic in the fandom

in vitro by genericlesbian72 / @femmescooter

Shadow-girl did not know much. She didn't need to. But she knew her first kill would be for the baby.

Hedgehog's words: This fic was a challenge to myself on how Cassandra would view her first kill, without words to describe it, while also a take on ‘joining the Batfamily early’ for her that I haven’t seen much before.

this one takes the cake by carol_in_au / @carol-in-au

Jason took a sip from his glass, slowly, synching it with Bruce's words. Bruce cleared his throat, and continued with an authoriative tone that was so not him. "I have something to announce." Bruce Wayne has an announcement to make

Chrys' words: It's fast-paced, has a good comedic timing, a bit of fluff in some moments. When I reread it, I found it pleasant to read and I was quite happy I created it

presumptions by Valkirin / @valkirinii

Batman is away on a long mission with the Justice League when Red Hood attacks Robin in Titans Tower. Red Hood thinks that hurting Robin will get Batman's attention. He doesn't expect Nightwing. Nightwing doesn't know what to expect from Red Hood, Gotham's newest rogue.

Trixie's words: It's one of my favorites that doesn't seem to get as much attention. It's also really fun to let Dick Grayson be angry and intimidating.

Operation Friendship Helmet by goldenraeofsun / @raeofsoleil

When Red Hood meets Dick, he seems almost friendly, compared to the violent hostility he showed Batman and Robin. Maybe, if Dick plays his cards right, he can turn Red Hood from a crime boss to a vigilante. But the closer he gets to Hood, the question nags louder and louder: why does Red Hood seem so familiar?

Rae's words: This is the first time I really dove into my favorite trope, secret identities, complete with a big reveal at the end.

Roadtrip to Nowhere by Ghxst_Bird / @ghost-bxrd

“For the last time, I’m not modifying a car we’ll be ditching a few towns over.” “Why, you got better things to do?” “Yeah, getting food on the table, you leech.” Jason goes on an impromptu road trip with an ex-Talon and ends up running into a family member… who still thinks he’s dead. Oops.

Ghost's words: Calvin Rose deserves more love in this fandom!

Q is for Quintessential by writergeek / @writergeek

"Rodney...you're talking about altering the timeline here." Well...yeah. Wasn't that the point? "...I want you to have a backup plan." Of course he had a backup plan. At this point he could probably list them all by alphabetical order. Or...the story of the backup plan(s) Rodney never wanted to use to save 12 days 25 years 48000 years mankind.

WG's words: not a DC fic, it actually comes from my old fandom, SGA. i just... i enjoy the time loop shenanigans and the fixit nature of it (which needs fixing only bc i broke it shush), both tropes i adore reading (and writing, apparently)

Leaving The Light by TheCallOfTheSea

Jason is alive, but he has fallen. Can the Batfamily save him?

M&M's words: I enjoyed exploring Jason as a villain, but it wasn’t easy writing relentless angst! I still brought out his humanity in a way.

closet space by adelfie / @adelfie

“Hi,” she says in a breathless rush, then takes a moment to swallow and wet her lips. “I, uh, need your help?” “Are you dying?” “N-not exactly.” “Then you don’t need me,” comes Jason’s lazy, uninterested reply. The call ends with a click. . Steph doesn't know what's more embarrassing: that she's been locked in a closet during a party, or the fact that her "friends" aren't really her friends. And to top it all off, Jason's the only one who can come rescue her.

adelfie's words: I love that Steph isn't fighting a big bad villain -- there's something so soft and strong in realizing that other people's judgments aren't what truly matter.

penance by cuephrase / @cuephrase

After Tim dies, his soul remains stuck as a ghost at the Manor. Forced to watch Dick and Bruce grieve him and unable to do anything, the only thing making the afterlife bearable is Jason. Until the day his ghost departs.  Tim assumes that Jason has passed on. But then the Red Hood breaks into the Cave. And for the first time, someone can see Tim.

Cue's words: i just had an inordinately fun time writing it!! there was a lot of catharsis in the process, and i’m very proud of the ending because i feel like i was able to preserve the fic’s bittersweetness- like the happy ending didn’t dilute the sorrow and instead they were able to complement each other

two vigilantes carry a cake across gotham by JBS_Forever / @jbsforever

In a scheming attempt to make them bond, Bruce forces Jason and Tim on what should be a simple quest: retrieve Alfred’s birthday cake from across town and make it back before the party. But this is Gotham. And nothing is ever simple in Gotham.

JBS' words: it's a story that centers around jason learning just how much crime alley appreciates him. it's also a sibling bonding fic between jason and tim

Ghosts From The Past by red_jaebyrd / @red-jaebyrd

Tim stared at an old poster of the ‘The Flying Graysons’ and his stomach dropped. He immediately fixated on the young boy’s smiling face with his eyes bright and full of life; frozen in time in eternal happiness. It was such a sharp contrast to the last memory Tim had of the youngest Grayson laying broken and still on the circus floor. Tim sighed. He wasn’t just at any old circus. He was back at Haly’s Circus where his nightmares had started and never really stopped. Or Bruce is Ghost Hunter and takes Jason and Tim with him to investigate strange happenings at Haly's Circus.

Jae's words: I wanted to try and write my own version of a no capes au adding in my own lore about the characters and their new world.

sons of sky by ScarlettSwordMoon, Kiwilart / @kiwilart

Dick is thirteen, leader of the Teen Titans, and already starting to chaff under Bruce’s thumb. When Bruce gets de-aged to fourteen, Dick thinks this experience will finally bring their partnership back to working order. It doesn’t. And then it does.

Scarlett's words: This fic has challenged me in so many fun directions. It is terrifying and exhilarating to write young!Bruce and to really try my hand at a big novel length plot line. Of all my WIPs, this is the most fun to work on because I'm working with an artist, Kiwili, who supports me during the loneliest parts of the drafting process, and also draws amazing art for the fic. I'm very proud of what we've done so far and very excited to be close to finishing.

we'll meet again some sunny day by Ms_Trickster / @ms-trickster

When Talia rests a hand atop her bed, the sound of paper crunching beneath it fills her ears.

Missy's words: Talia is a character that deserves a lot more depth and affection and it was a blast to write a story in which she is loved.

[ahyperactivehero]

If you're still feeling DBD drabbles I'd love some post-canon Edwin and Crystal bonding (making fun of celebrities together? studying magic? comparing rich neglectful parents?)

I love a good Edwin and Crystal bonding moment! I hope that if we ever get season 2 we get to see more of them bickering and bonding. Because these two remind me of me and my sibling so strongly it almost hurts <3

(reminder that i am taking election night drabbles, although i can't promise they'll be posted tonight. i'm working on as many as i can, but it is getting late! i'll likely finish most of them tomorrow unfortunately)

Drabble 2 

Crystal and Edwin were at war. Or at least, that’s what Crystal would have labeled themselves as. According to Charles this was simply, ‘Edwin when he likes you,’ which Crystal wanted to be judgemental about, but she had her memories back and she could remember what a menace she’d been to people she liked.

“It is not hard, Crystal,” Edwin stressed, leaning heavily on to the desk in front of him. At some point in time he had abandoned his coat and jacket and rolled his sleeves up in what had to be the most laid back outfit Crystal had ever seen him in.

Yet there was nothing relaxed about Edwin. She’d never known him to be a particularly relaxed person, but there was a strange undercurrent of stress that was running through him that she was pretty sure wasn’t always there.

She sighed again for what must have been the millionth time and dropped her phone onto the couch next to her. It’s not like anyone she actually liked contacted her that way. In fact, she’d been arguing with her mom the last time someone had actually reached out to her, which had only resulted in Crystal storming out of the house and crashing in the agency’s office for a few days.

Which brought them to where they were now. Edwin tapped the book in front of him, looking for all the world like a young teaching assistant annoyed with his students. “If you would simply try, I know you cou-”

Violently, she shoved herself up off of the couch. Her feet banged against the floor, almost loud enough to rattle the windows, and for once she was glad Charles wasn’t here. She didn’t want him to see her like this.

“I have tried, Edwin! I’ve tried, okay! Have you ever tried shutting up?!” she asked before throwing herself back down onto the couch, her back turned towards the world as if that might somehow block out the ghost.

One of Crystal’s favorite and least favorite things about Edwin was that he never seemed to be dissuaded by her poor attitude. Sometimes, it even seemed to encourage him. “If you had actually tried, you would have cast the spell,” Edwin said. There was no heat to his voice, not even an ounce of actual anger to him– even though Crystal was sure he was pissed.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe if she did that she’d be able to block out Edwin’s voice and the tears at the same time. “I did try,” she said, all of the fire in her voice having faded until it sounded broken and sad.

The sound of soft footsteps filled the room. Edwin’s familiar sounding boots shuffled against the floor until he reached the couch and seemed to hover there for a moment. 

“Ah,” he said. “I see.”

And Crystal wasn’t sure what he meant until she rolled over and saw him looking at her phone. 

“You are fighting with your parents,” he said.

“So what?” she asked and snatched her phone out of his hands.

“So, magic, especially one as instinctual and ingrained as yours, is highly influenced by your emotions.” Crystal glared up at him from the corner of her eye, which forced him to hold his hands up in defense. “Not because you are a woman, or whatever else it is you might be thinking I meant. Just because magic works that way.”

They needed a new couch. She poked at a hole that had long since been worn into the cushion and pulled out a bit of stuffing before sticking it back inside. “So I’m just going to keep fucking it up?” she asked.

Edwin sat down on the floor with his back to the couch. It was almost easier to talk this way, the two of them back to back. At least then she didn’t have to see his judgmental face, and he wouldn’t have to see her cry.

Not that she was crying, of course.

“No,” Edwin said quietly. “You will not keep ‘fucking it up.’ Although it will likely take time for you to get used to doing magic with such intentions, not just relying on your instincts to guide you.”

She pulled another thing of stuffing out before shoving it back in. “What’s so wrong with instincts?” Her ancestors had done fantastically for her so far.

Edwin shuffled, but she couldn’t figure out what he had done. “Nothing. Instincts are, as Charles would say, brills. They help keep you alive and safe and have been developed for exactly that reason.”  He shifted again, and this time Crystal could feel him fully leaning back against the couch, and the goosebumps that a ghost in too close proximity caused raised along her skin. 

“But what happens if you can’t trust your instincts? What if something has changed or been manipulated and you can’t trust them?” he asked.

And Crystal knew they were talking about something heavy, something that Edwin would definitely rather not talk about with her. But here he was, talking about it with her just the same.

“You mean Hell?” she asked. She rolled over just enough to get a peek at the top of Edwin’s head. Even though she could see very little of him, she could tell that he was nervous and that made her nervous.

“Not strictly speaking of Hell. There are plenty of supernatural beings with the ability to manipulate you or your senses for their own gains.” He looked over his shoulder, his eyes barely catching hers. “But yes, I was referring to demons like David.”

Her nails had already been bitten down to the quick, but she chewed on them anyways. Buzzes shook the couch as more texts from her mom chimed in, likely just another rant about what an awful child she was and how she was making everything so difficult for them.

“They’re just saying those things because they feel like they are failing as parents,” Edwin said. He’d turned back away, his eyes staring into the closet as if it offered something particularly interesting inside. “And while that might be true, that does not mean that you are a failure.”

She snorted. “Oh yeah,” she said. “What do you know about it?”

Edwin’s sharp green eyes turned towards her before quickly cutting away. “You are hardly the only one to grow up with rich, neglectful parents,” Edwin said. “Why do you think I was sent away to school in the first place?”

Any and all fight she had had in her died. Fighting with Edwin was supposed to be fun and sharp and quick– it didn’t seem fair to fight him when he was being so honest.

A forced smile spread across her face as she reached out and bumped him with her hand. “Shoulda known you had rich parents,” she said. “Look at how you talk.”

Edwin furrowed his brow. “Everyone at school spoke the way I do.”

“Exactly.”

They sat in silence for a while before Crystal sighed and held out her hand. “Gimme the book,” she said. Which Edwin gracefully did.

The original language was too hard for Crystal to read, but Edwin had written it down in English and then wrote it out phonetically below that. It wasn’t very long, nor was it anything special, just a minor illusion spell. It wouldn’t be enough to trick anyone, or save her from a demon, but it was definitely a start. 

“Charles will be happy you’re trying again,” Edwin said as she ran her hands over the pages. 

“Oh yeah?” she asked. Was that a B or a D? Edwin’s handwriting was so nice it was almost hard to read.

“He takes his job very seriously as the brawn,” Edwin said, as if she needed to be told that. “But it makes him happy to know that you or I could defend ourselves with spells if we had to.”

Once again she snorted. “But you never do,” she said. “And I don’t see how this little spell is supposed to help.”

Edwin nodded. “Never need to. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to in return. Besides, this was one of the first spells I ever learned, and it's a great base to build on.”

And maybe that was a better way of looking at it. Not just defending herself or learning magic that some old, dead person other than Edwin had created when she could just use her own ancestral abilities. No, this was just another way to protect not only herself but the people she had come to love. 

Plus, wouldn’t it be nice to have a base spell that she could work on? If she could master this, maybe she could use some elements from it in her family's own magic.

Slowly, she read the words out as she tried to picture what she wanted to show Edwin. It wouldn’t be perfect, she was sure of that, but God if she wasn’t going to make this time work.

Purple petals and leaves filled the air as the image of the tree inside herself appeared in her palm. It was shaky, the picture almost glitchy and waving before reappearing slightly less detailed than before. It was as if someone had roughly sketched what was inside her without any special art talent.

But dammit, that was her tree, and she had cast it.

“It’s beautiful,” Edwin said. His eyes were wide, and he leaned in. Petals settled over him for a moment before passing through him on the way to the ground. She wondered if that was a ghost thing or a magic thing. 

“This is me,” she said. 

Edwin glanced at her before turning back to the tree. “Your ancestors’ tree,” he said, finally understanding. “I can only imagine how amazing it is in person.”

Pride she hadn’t expected to feel flooded her, filling her tree with even more light until it nearly blinded the two of them. Edwin folded her hands closed, shutting off the spell as they blinked spots from their vision.

She smiled sheepishly and he grinned back at her, one of the first true smiles she thought she had ever seen on his face. 

“We’ll work on that,” he said.

And they would.

[pkmn-monochrome]

[After seeing the support from my Canadian friends, ELIAS and MIA mods, I felt inspired to weigh in on behalf of my fellow Americans out there.]

[I am as shaken by the news as anyone else right now, but during times like this, I want to take a page out of CODY's book and say: Even when it feels like the world doesn't want you to exist, stay alive out of spite. Even when there are people against you, there are still so, so many people who will love and support you in spite of them. Surround yourself with them, and you will be able to persevere through anything.]

[I've come to understand that PKMN-MONOCHROME has become a source of comfort for people during times when they needed it the most. I hope to continue being that for you right now, as well. Thank you, and please take good care of yourselves.]

[theriu]

Now that we’ve reached the end of Dracula, I have some thoughts on a certain scene. (Major spoilers below if you haven’t read the book or the ending yet!)

I think it’s so, so important that Quincey Morris honors Mina’s request to promise that he will kill her if she turns, especially in light of Jonathan’s determination not to.

Occasional posts talk about how Jonathan was determined to follow Mina into vampirism, and speak of it in glowing terms as a sign of his love for her. And I agree, Jonathan’s love for his wife is beautiful and admirable. But in this one case, at least, his means of showing that love is shortsighted and selfish.

What would be gained by him following Mina into her doom? He wants her to not be alone? This is as sadly misguided as those claiming they will go to hell in order to be with their loved ones. Hell and vampirism are by nature isolating because in them, there is no longer any capacity for love or goodness or comfort. All good impulses and deeds are lost to those who become vampires. We see it even in how Dracula himself, a foul and wretched monster, seemed to find a breath of peace as he died—for JUST A MOMENT, his soul was freed of the curse and he could FEEL peace again. Mina would be no less alone with Jonathan also chained to the curse of vampirism. She wouldn’t even be capable of grieving his fate, because Mina and Jonathan would be completely overshadowed by the evil that consumes people who are turned into vampires.

And aside from that, Jonathan’s love is selfish because even if he could comfort Mina in her curse by joining her, he would still knowingly and willingly be dooming countless other people to suffer as he did. He would willingly become the same monster as Dracula, capable of terrorizing and murdering across the centuries, causing the same pain he and his friends and the Romanian villagers have felt countless times over. And he would knowingly and willingly be allowing the vampire that was once Mina to do the same by breaking his promise to kill her. And the fact that he hid his intentions from Mina suggests he already knows that, but was willing to allow it for the sake of the one person HE loves best.

That is why I find his actions to be selfish rather than noble. He'd be sacrificing the lives of countless people he doesn't personally care for just for the sake of the one person he personally cares for. The common denominator is the idea that only what he loves matters.

And that’s why Quincey’s promise is so important, and why his act of giving his life to help kill Dracula is even more noble. He not only destroyed Dracula and saved Mina—he saved Jonathan from himself, and who knows how many innocents from them both. He saved Jonathan from making a horrific mistake that would have doomed both Mina and Jonathan, as well as their victims, to a living hell.

And I like to think that, once the danger was past and Jonathan could contemplate things and talk it over with Mina (after all, these details were all available in the diary entries they collected), he would understand better what a mistake Quincey ultimately saved him from, and how Quincey Morris was an even greater hero than anyone could ever comprehend. Because Quincey Morris didn't stop one vampire.

He stopped three.

[mx-pastelwriting]

Saving My Fanfiction Work

Due to the recent events in the United States. To clarify the recent events being Trump becoming president of the United States, Project 2025 more than likely going to be integrated. If you are not familiar with Project 2025 I urge you to look it up.

With all of its harmful plans some of the plans are to take down/restrict internet sites that have LGBTQ+ communities that means communities like the fan-fiction communities/sites in the United States.

I am only giving resources to those inside and out of the US in case they banned sites that hold fan-fiction. Better safe than sorry.

Being that I live in the US the possibly of mine and many others Fanfiction has the possibly of being in danger. Therefore I'm giving you recourses. (I'm not leaving or stopping my writing, I'm here for the fight!)

For those wanting to save my fanfiction, I give you permission to download them off of AO3 and to be used for your personal collection. Meaning, your eyes only.

If you do not know how to download them many others on online have tutorials on how to download them and add them to our phone libraries.

Here are some links to tutorials:

Downloading Fanfic

Adding to Iphone & Android Library

Adding to Kindle Library - Video on How (On TikTok)

Adding Book Covers (At the bottom) - Good EPUB Cover Changer (I use this)

Types of Files and What they mean

Please stay safe out there! Remember to follow the rules below.

DO NOT share the downloaded file anywhere online.

DO NOT repost the downloaded file under your name.

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take illegal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI, or reposted on any other platform without permission.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does give consent to "reblog," sharing links to direct work, and being in recommend lists.

Please stay safe out there friends! I love you so much! Know that there will always people that love you and in for the fight to make sure you are loved!

[beatingdrumspouringwine]

The US Election and the Future of Queer Media

To start this off, I'd like to say that if this post leaves my side of the Internet, this is primarily a religious blog. You won't see takes like this again from me, but I majored in history and have a passion for the preservation of queer culture, so here I am.

I want to start this out by giving my heartfelt condolences to everyone who will be negatively impacted by this election. I'm lucky enough to live in a part of the country where I will likely not experience the negative side of the new administration for at least a year or two. But I know for many, it will come much faster.

The current Republican party has approached queerness with fearmongering, labeling it as "pornography," and attempting to eradicate public expression of it with book and drag bans. While the past 4 years have seen this slow creep, I believe the next 4 years will be much faster, and wider-reaching. I would not be surprised if the Trump administration attempts to ban queer media and public displays of queerness on a federal level, likely under some sort of "anti-porn" law, where queerness will fall under that umbrella of "porn". And with Project 2025 very much existing, and with so many anti-queer people who have the potential to end up in very important positions, we need to get cracking on preserving the queer literature which we do have.

Now would be a good time to start getting USBs, or organizing Google Drives, and trying to get as much queer media onto them as possible. I'm not going to explicitly say that we should all just start pirating stuff at random. If we can buy books, buy art, legally watch movies, donate to organizations etc., then for the love of all that is good, do that. But with the very real threat of our existence being labeled as obscenity on a federal level, it's better safe than sorry. If a time comes where we're unable to access the resources that we need and the stories that we love on the internet, their survival offline will be crucial.

At the end of the day, we will survive. We have the rights that we do have at this moment because our predecessors fought for them. They lived through worse than this, and while it will likely get bad again, we'll survive just as they did.

Linking to two resources that I think are perfect right now, while nothing is falling apart yet:

The Internet Archive, which is a glorious free library, entirely online, with almost anything you could hope to find

The Queer Liberation Library, a Massachusetts-based nonprofit with a collection dedicated primarily to queer literature

[rosethyme]

Some excerpts from the article:

1. Trust yourself Trust-building starts with your own self. It includes trusting your own eyes and gut, as well as building protection from the ways the crazy-making can become internalized. 

This also means being trustworthy — not just with information, but with emotions. That way you can acknowledge what you know and admit the parts that are uncertain fears nagging at you. 

2. Find others who you trust Hannah Arendt’s “The Origins of Totalitarianism”explored how destructive ideologies like fascism and autocracy grow. She used the word verlassenheit — often translated as loneliness — as a central ingredient. As she meant it, loneliness isn’t a feeling but a kind of social isolation of the mind. We have to consciously break that distance. In Chile they organized under the guise of affinity groups. This was, as its name suggests, people who shared some connections and trust. Finding just a few people who you trust to regularly act with and touch base with is central.

I’ve written an agenda for such gatherings right after a Trump win that you can use.

All of us will benefit from actively organized nodes to help stabilize us. In a destabilized society, you need people who help ground you.

3. Grieve

No matter what we try to do, there’s going to be a lot of loss. The human thing to do is grieve. (Well, apparently humans are also very good at compartmentalizing, rationalizing, intellectualizing and ignoring — but the damage it does to our body and psyche is pretty well documented.)

If you aren’t a feelings person, let me say it this way: The inability to grieve is a strategic error.

4. Release that which you cannot change

An elder once saw me trying to do everything and pulled me aside. “That’s not a healthy lifelong strategy,” she said. Over the last few months I’ve been testing out a terribly challenging tool. It’s a journaling exercise that invites you to reflect on which issues you’ll spend energy on. It asks: what are issues you’ll throw down on, do a lot for, a little for, or — despite caring about it — do nothing at all for? That last question can feel like a kind of torture for many activists, even while we’re intellectually aware that we cannot stop it all.

5. Find your path

One pathway is called “Protecting People.” These are folks surviving and protecting our own — especially those of us directly targeted, such as trans people, folks choosing abortions and immigrants. Another pathway is “Defending Civic Institutions.” This group may or may not be conscious that current institutions don’t serve us all, but they are united in understanding that Trump wants them to crumble so he can exert greater control over our lives. Each bureaucracy will put up its own fight to defend itself.

Then there’s a critical third pathway: “Disrupt and Disobey.”This goes beyond protesting for better policies and into the territory of people intervening to stop bad policies or showing resistance.

Lastly, there’s a key fourth role: “Building Alternatives.”We can’t just be stuck reacting and stopping the bad. We have to have a vision. This is the slow growth work of building alternative ways that are more democratic.

6. Do not obey in advance, do not self-censor

I’m not coaching to never self-protect. You can decide when to speak your mind. But it is a phenomenally slippery slope here we have to observe and combat. 

Timothy Snyder has written a helpful book called “On Tyranny” — and turned it into a video series. He cites ceding power as the first problem to tackle, writing: “Most of the power of authoritarianism is freely given. In times like these, individuals think ahead about what a more repressive government will want, and then offer themselves without being asked. A citizen who adapts in this way is teaching power what it can do.”

7. Reorient your political map

The bellicose, blasphemous language of Trump will meet the practical reality of governing. When you’re out of power, it’s easy to unify — but their coalition’s cracks will quickly emerge. We have to stay sharp for opportunities to cleave off support.

How we position ourselves matters: Are we interested in engaging with people unhappy with the regime — whether because they love the current institutions or are unhappy with Trump’s policies on them? Are we able to tell a story that explains how we got here — and do political education? Or are we only interested in maintaining ideological purity and preaching to our own choir?

8. Get real about power

It will be helpful to have a power analysis in our minds, specifically that’s known as the upside-down triangle. This tool was built to explain how power moves even under dictatorships. 

The upside down triangle. (What If Trump Wins/Elizabeth Beier)

The central tenet is that like an upside-down triangle, power can be unstable. It naturally topples over without anything supporting it. To prevent that, power relies on pillars of support to keep it upright.

Removing one pillar of support can often gain major, life-saving concessions. In response to Trump’s 2019 government shutdown, flight attendants prepared a national strike. Such a strike would ground planes across the country and a key transportation network. Within hours of announcing they were “mobilizing immediately” for a strike, Trump capitulated.

9. Handle fear, make violence rebound

Handling fear isn’t about suppressing it — but it is about constantly redirecting. One activist described to me two motions in the universe: shrinking or expansion. When Donald Trump directs the Justice Department to use sedition charges against protesters or arrest his political enemies like Jamie Raskin or Liz Cheney, what’s our response?

Activist/intellectual Hardy Merriman released a studied response about political violence that had some news that surprised me. The first was that physical political violence hasn’t grown dramatically in this country — it still remains relatively rare. The threats of violence, however, trend upwards, such as this CNN report: “Politically motivated threats to public officials increased 178 percent during Trump’s presidency,” primarily from the right.

His conclusion wasn’t that political violence isn’t going to grow. Quite the opposite. But he noted that a key component to political violence is to intimidate and tell a story that they are the true victims. Making political violence rebound requires refusing to be intimidated and resisting those threats so they can backfire. (Training on this backfire technique is available from the HOPE-PV guide.)

10. Envision a positive future

I don’t feel certain, and I’m not predicting we win. But we’ve all now imagined storylines about how bad it might get. We would do ourselves a service to spend an equal measure of time envisioning how we might advance our cause in these conditions. As writer Walidah Imarisha says, “The goal of visionary fiction is to change the world.”

Spend some time envisioning how we might advance our cause. (What If Trump Wins/Elizabeth Beier)

Grieve AND organize.

Good article by David Hunter on how to survive the Trump presidency, both on the personal and on the political plane.

[ameagrice]

Capsize

percy jackson x fem reader

chapter thirty-seven | out of the grave, into the woods.

It’s September 9th, and two days have passed since Percy. Chiron tells you to have hope; maybe he escaped before the place went kaboom. You didn’t see a body, so you should keep the hope alive. You viciously respond that no, there wouldn’t be a body if it was blown to a million pieces, would there?

You eat more than you ever have. The week that passed in the maze had been particularly busy, so much so you’d scarcely had time to eat anything proper. It’s nice to stuff your face, sitting with Annabeth in comfortable silence.

Everyone knows. Everybody knows what happened, by September 9th. Chiron holds a small meeting and explains exactly what happened to the others. Some suggest sending searchers down into the maze to continue what you couldn’t, but Chiron declines the suggestion under the excuse that it’s too dangerous as of late. Percy will turn up eventually, he concludes.

“Have faith,” he sighs, looking around the room. His eyes land on you, where you sit with folded arms and bloodshot eyes nestled between Annabeth and Travis.

It’s hard to do when your mother refuses to answer your prayers. You pray every night for Grover and Percy’s safe return, all week, every morning. You beg any god that will listen to just grant you this one thing, and allow Percy to still be breathing. A tense week passes, and at the week mark—September 14th—since you came out of the maze, hope is beginning to wane. You see it in Chiron’s face with every falsely enthusiastic speech, and in your friends. Annabeth helps you to make a new weapon in the armoury, a lean, light sword made of celestial bronze. You’re working on convincing one of the other campers to charm it to make it smaller, taking inspiration from Riptide. Convenience is key.

By September 15th, people have lost hope. A whole week of people trying to come home should have shown some signs, at least. Another week passes, with no such luck. And then a third. You barely move from the Big House, not really feeling much up to participating in activities and practice fights. You’re just getting into reading a new book, scrunched up in the chair on the porch, when Chiron approaches you, with a solemn look on his face.

“Another book?” He tries for a smile. You see right through him, raising your eyes above the line of your book. There seem to be more stress lines under his eyes. “That’s the third this week alone.”

You raise it a little higher. “I like reading. You can get lost in books pretty easy.”

“I like a good read myself,” he admits. “Maybe not three six-hundred-pagers a week, though.”

Now, you do smile. Just a little.

“I didn’t come here just to halt your peace, my dear. I wanted to talk to you about Percy, and Grover.”

Of course. It’s all anybody wants to talk about with you.

You snap shut the book and pay Chiron all your attention. “Okay.”

He eyeballs the ground for a second. “I think it’s time that we begin to build up a burial shroud for Percy, and begin the proceedings for Grover. Three weeks is…it is unlikely for them to come back to us now. A week, a week and a half at most, is the usual waiting time for heroes to return. I’ve seen this many times before, my dear. Three weeks is too long. It’s time we pay our respects to our friends.”

It’s a hard pill to swallow. You feel your heart stammer in the ribcage, tiny shooting pains going haywire. You’ve had these pains all of three weeks—Chiron calls them a reaction to stress, and grief. It’s why he encouraged so much rest, so little training. Your eyes fill with strong tears and your throat thickens.

“Okay,��� you manage. A leaded weight pulls your innards down, and something else grinds them together. You feel overcome with hopelessness, a feeling alike deep and terrible sadness, gut-wrenching. You only want to cry until you can’t cry anymore.

“As Percy’s longest friend,” he continues with a hard swallow, “I wanted to ask you personally, if you’d like to create his burial shroud. As an honor to him.”

You want, in that moment, your dad. You want the comfort of a parent, even though you know you won’t get so much as a hug from him. You want home.

You ask Annabeth to help you in making Percy’s burial shroud. A heaviness settles over camp the next day, and everyone you talk to or pass by offers you a sympathetic look, a hand on the shoulder. Together, you pick out sea-green fabric, and tie in some gentle details of deeper greens and little dashes of blue. You find it in yourself to delve bravely into his left-behind cabin, and dig a seashell from the wall beside the statue of his father. It’s a creamy-pale colour, and lined with streaks of red and pale peach, engrained with bits of sand like it had just come directly from the beach. You weave a few into the fabric until your fingers are sore and pricked with blood. It’s all very factual, death and its proceedings. You find yourself zoning out, staring at the soft material in your hands and thinking of absolutely nothing, at times. Annabeth gently says your name, and pulls the needle from your bloody finger. It takes all day to make it perfect, but you finally complete the burial shroud, and tie it off with a pretty bit of creme ribbon and sea rope.

For Grover, it’s different, and Annabeth carries this one forward better than you because she’d known him for a long time, a hell of a lot longer than you knew Grover. She sits down on the sofa, and almost tears the earthy-green and gold fabric with how forcefully she grips it. Annabeth acts normally, but her lip trembles. She presses them together to stop it, reaching out to the table between you both for the needle.

By evening, just as the sun is going down and the sky is burning orange, you’re finished with Percy’s shroud, and Annabeth is finished with Grover’s. They’re not due to be burned until tomorrow evening, but Chiron said it was in everybody’s best interests to finish them sooner rather than later. It would make the process of burning them a lot easier to handle, apparently. You’re but a second away from blowing up, taking action with screaming and hacking at the strawberry fields; so, anything to lighten the situation, really.

“We should really get some food before curfew,” Annabeth set aside Grover’s shroud. “C’mon. They’ll be looking for us if we don’t turn up, and you know what Travis has been like, worrying this week.”

You huff a short laugh. “Guy hasn’t stopped.”

It was true. He’d been so attentive to your every want and thought that you felt somewhat guilty for dropping him the way you had done to accompany Percy into the maze. You felt like such a terrible friend, recently. But if Travis was holding it against you, he didn’t show it a bit. Ever the selfless.

Your stomach growls painfully, prompting you to stand and hold Percy’s shroud for another second or so, before dropping it safely next to Grover’s. The silky material slips from your fingers and hits the table carefully. The clock above the door tells you it’s nearly seven o’clock at night, and you haven’t eaten a thing since breakfast.

Annabeth is long gone by the time you force yourself to leave the room. You can see her in the distance, walking to the dining pavilion. You stop against a wall, breathing deeply and exhaling heavily, just taking in the air. It smells of pine trees and strawberries, and something warm. The sky is burnt orange and lined with golden clouds. An otherwise perfect evening, if you weren’t hearing Grover’s voice in the back of your mind.

He’s shouting your name, so distantly it feels like he isn’t even there at all. You wish you could help him. His voice grows louder, and closer. You begin up the hill just as you hear breathing—hard, heaving breathing like the person it’s coming from has ran a marathon.

You spin, somewhat startled, and your jaw drops so hard you think it might have landed in Tartarus. “G—GROVER?!” He’s really here. Really! With sweaty hair, missing a sleeve of his jacket, but he’s here in person. Grover is alive. “Holy cows. Holy cows. Holy cows—”

“I did pray to some holy cows, actually,” he nods out of breath. Grover puts his hands on his hips, tilting his head back. The sun is setting very quickly, and really it’s nothing special tonight compared to every other night, but to Grover, it must be amazing.

All the breath he gets back in his lungs is swiftly knocked right back out again. You lunge for him, the relief falling like a heaviness from your shoulders. Grover is a little bonier under your hugging arms than the last time you were together, but he’s in one piece and here in front of you, and it’s more than you could ask for given the circumstances.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you breathe. With your heart beating ten-to-the-dozen, it’s difficult to discern whether you’re about to have a heart attack, or if you’re developing some sort of condition from all the scares. “Really. It’s good to see you.”

He’s shocked. Of course he is; you’ve barely shown even camaraderie towards Grover before. You think it might be time to change your tune.

“I wasn’t sure you’d gotten out,” he sighed, pulling back. “I’m so sorry for leaving the two of you, but look—I found him. I really did. I found Pan.”

You blanch. Not solely from his insinuation that both you and Percy got out, but that he found what he’d been looking for. You can’t help smiling.

“Really? You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent!”

“We should go tell Chiron, then.”

Heaviness settles in your gut the closer you get to the dining pavilion. You figured that’s where Chiron will be—eating like nothing’s wrong. You haven’t eaten properly in days.

Everybody is seated by the time you arrive. Chiron is, as you’d guessed, at the table and eating as well. It must be the movement from the corner of his eye that turns his head to face you, and it’s a result: he sees Grover; tired, drooping-at-the-shoulders Grover. Chiron stands so abruptly that the table shrieks, the legs scraping against the floor, and campers groan and cover their ears, turning to face the commotion. They follow the leader’s direction, and see him too. The sky is burning, the clouds on fire, and fire in the heart flickers.

A great deal of clamour comes next. It’s all very factual, in the after. They yell Grover’s name and people come running, some in relief, some in disbelief, and some in excitement.

He eats his heart out at the head table, and nobody bothers him. You sit together and for a little while you laugh. Annabeth smiles so hard her cheeks must hurt, and the three of you manage to relieve the last few days and weeks with some joy, especially now Grover has found what he’d been looking for.

It doesnt change the fact that you go to bed with a heavy heart and a sorrowful stomach, and don’t get a wink of good sleep, tossing and turning until the cows come home. When morning comes, you’re sore-eyed and sore of heart, dressing in jeans and a sweatshirt despite the warmth of camp itself. On a day where all eyes will be on you, it’s comforting to feel somewhat sheltered by sleeves and neckline.

You don’t eat breakfast, though your stomach grumbles and whines, and you can barely manage to get a glass of apple juice down. People are casting you looks from every table, because they all know what you’re about to do. After all, his burial shroud is only metres away, folded neatly in a small box before the open fire pit.

Finally, after breakfast of little words to anybody, Chiron smiles somewhat skewedly and directs everyone to crowd at the pit. A few girls from the Aphrodite cabin are crying crocodile tears, pretending they’re oh-so-sad over the loss of Percy, though they haven’t spoken to him before, or if they have—only to ridicule him for tripping during track, or letting an arrow fly too early. Silly little things really, that make Percy, Percy. And you miss him.

You barely notice that Chiron is speaking until he’s finished. The soft blue is in your hands, palms up to the sky. You hope they’re watching.

It smells of smoke that will stick to your hair and clothes, of flames that burn your hands even this far out. Orange, yellow, and wicked red all dancing together in the grate like it’s a terrible little party just for Percy.

You have to clear your throat out hard, it having been in disuse since yesterday. Sets of eyes are on you, big and waiting. A few Aphrodite girls are pulling sneering expressions, because they’re not fans of other girls being the centre of attention.

“Uh—well,” you start, wondering why on earth you hadn’t prepared something earlier. There’s a hard lump in your throat, rolling around and around and around and you think you might choke on it. “Percy was my best friend. He meant a lot to all of us, a great deal, actually. I can’t think of one moment where Percy…”

And suddenly you can’t think at all. There’s pressure behind your eyes burning away like the fire in the grate. Your stomach hurts because you’re so hungry you’re starving. The brain fog because of this is alarming, and you can feel the casual facade start to falter. Why can’t you find the words.

You cough a jarring laugh. Annabeth whispers your name from just the front row, moving to get in your line of vision, concerned. She’s upset but she’s holding it together much better than you are.

The blue in your hands is beginning to absorb the sweat from your skin. “Percy was…there are no words. I think his actions said more, anyway, if I’m honest. Truth be told,” you finally look up from your shaking hands, “truth be told, those of us who knew Percy properly already knew that. Percy was just—”

When you lift your eyes just behind the crowd, you begin to notice something strange. A figure. A boy, in immaculate clothing and tanned like he’d just spent a week at the beach. His shirt is ironed and crisp, and a thin circle of white shells is clasped around a wrist.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Annabeth urges. Her voice shakes when she carefully pulls you aside. “You don’t have to do this. It isn’t fair.”

But your eyes are stuck glued to the boy getting closer, so close that you can make out the green of the eyes you’d recognise absolutely anywhere.

“He’s right there.”

“I know, it’s fine, I can take this.”

She attempts to pry the material from you, but you’re not having it. Clenched in your fists, you nod to the distance, as the lightheaded feeling grows.

“Percy’s here. Percy’s here.”

Heads turn. Bodies shift. Chiron moves through the crowd and pales considerably because he sees what you see. At last, people gasp, people yell out, people rush forward to surround him. But he only has eyes for you, and they’re glossy ones at that.

Your head spins. “Dear god, I think I need to sit down.”

And indeed, down you go.

—

This chapter’s title is taken from the song ‘the let go’ by Elle King. https://youtu.be/RcnUJTIyjXs?si=HO1lzccJfsaF6SbQ (1.18 seconds)

Taglist:

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky @emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl @tojismassivemantiddies @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138 @obxstiles @mxltifxnd0m @cxcillia @itzjustj-1000 @sp00kcanwrite @randomesthings @fratbrochrisgf @prongsflower @bugszi

[nrdmssgs]

To my beloved ones who need this

This last 24 hours, I saw a concerning amount of 'if he wins - I'm ending my life' messages. I will understand, if you don't feel like I have a right to talk about this situation, as I am not an American citizen. But if it's cool with you - I have 8 things that helped me personally to stay, when things around went south.

Give yourself time to mourn. You have every right to feel like you feel right now. Even if you couldn't take part in what is happening. This is your life and it matters. Cry openly at home if it's a safe space. You can share your feeling with me, if your home is not safe. Eating your feelings up may sound like a good strategy in a short run, but it will have a backsplash later.

Don't give yourself too much time to doomscroll. I don't mean this like 'don't read the news at all'. I know, It's extremely hard to control this, but this is important. Give yourself time. Like 'ok, I'm doomscrolling from 1 to 2 pm. After that, I'm writing that fanfic, reading that book, shopping for groceries'.

Do mundane household things. Right now, it might feel like you don't have any control over your life. Like tomorrow, angry people come at your door and burn you. I understand, where does this come from, but I also understand that this feeling can grow into an all consuming fear, that might end you. So it is important to fight over this sense of control. 'I am in control of what I'm eating today, I am in control of what bedsheets I'm sleeping on today'. These are very tiny things, but they might help you from sliding down the fear.

Walk. If it's safe for you - please go out. I know, it doesn't cure depression, but I promise you, forcing your brain to analyze new information (new scents, dynamic surroundings) for maybe an hour a day helps in keeping yourself from circling around one damaging idea.

Acknowledge, you are not alone in what you feel right now. One of the scariest things your brain can decide right now is 'I am alone, I'm surrounded by enemies'. The truth is, you are not alone in this. There are millions of people mourning with you right now. Concentrate on them. If it helps - watch streams with their demonstrations, read their articles, do anything to not forget, they are out there.

It may now seem like you lost some of your relatives and friends. Don't forget that you don't have to force yourself to communicate with them right now. But also don't forget that you are not obliged to declare 'from now on I don't have a father/granny/sibling'. Maybe you will burn all the bridges, maybe with time you find some way to talk to each other despite what happened. Don't force yourself to choose right now because it's a very hard thing to do.

Make a small plan for 6 months from today. And I don't mean 'plan every week'. No, do a little thing. Buy a cinema ticket or a train ticket to somewhere not too far from your home, sign up for a 'prettiest origami contest', ANYTHING. But it must be not for tomorrow, it must be a long term plan. This little anchor might give you a little help.

Right now, it might feel like this is the end. But as someone who was there more than once: I promise you, this is not. This is not necessarily the end for you personally when a tyrant comes to rule your country, when he brings to life the most inhuman laws, when he starts a genocide. I don't mean this as 'stop whining, you softie, you are exaggerating this'. You are not exaggerating. As well as many people in Europe weren't exaggerating, when they acknowledged 1. September 1939 as the day, when the Evil took over the world. There are some diaries left from that time, that end abruptly in 1942 or even 1944 with the author taking his life, declaring, that this heel of a war will never end. But we all know that September 1945 and the war was over. Our task right now is to live to that day.

I love you all. I mourn with you.

[dreamyyesenia]

Always Keep Simming - A Ghostly Welcome

When the Blackburn’s entered the living room of the, formerly empty, Haunted House they were planning to hide in, they were surprised to find it occupied- by a ghostly figure. Who had just casually stated how delicious of a meal they’d made for them… Gemma wasn’t impressed by this though.

„Dear Ghost, I‘m sorry to destroy your dreams but you can’t actually eat us. You’re not a living being, thus you don’t have organs to properly digest us. You can pass through us, my theory is that that could be a bit odd and cold but nothing that a sims‘ organism can’t handle!“, she declared, being very proud of her observations and conclusions. Gavin, ever the supporter of his fearless twin, nodded. „Sorry to break it to you. You’re kind of dead, you know?“, he said in a sweet soothing voice. The Ghost was utterly surprised by these kids and looked at them, speechless. Then, they turned to Aileen and Colin who, as they always did, let their twins speak out freely (even if it could potentially make things worse).

„Interesting to see what you two produced. All that wohoo wasn’t for nothing, I guess!“, she bend over laughing.

„Wohoo? Did you guys attend a party without telling us?“, Gemma asked and looked at her parents with an accusatory expression. Aileen and Colin exchanged embarrased and confused glances.

„Wwhat wohoo do you mean? Do we know you?“, Colin asked the Ghost.

The Ghost smirked. „I‘m sure you remember the days you two spent here. Doing „scientific research“ - hach! I know exactly what kind of experiments went on in these rooms…“ She wiggled her eyebrows at Aileen and Colin. Gemma and Gavin were getting more and more curious and excited by the second, so Aileen said: „Okay, so you lived here, when Colin and I were staying here? We never saw you!“

„I‘m Lenore, Lenore Goth. The illegitimate daughter of Mortimer Goth. No one ever saw me, noone knew I existed. And yet, I am the heir and resident of this magnificent house. And it will always be this way. I will haunt this place forever. I didn’t show myself to you two because I thought you were adorable. Two eggheads, slightly mad, obsessed with the paranormal… you seemed like my kind of people. I‘d have loved to babysit the twins for you…“, she rambled, looking thoughtfully out of the window.

Aileen was shocked. The Goths had been close friends with Aileen‘s grandparents, she knew that her great-uncle had been married to Cassandra. Alexander had lived in Oasis Springs with his husband… . So, when Mortimer and Bella had died, the mansion was left vacant. „Who was your mother?“, Aileen asked.

Lenore chuckled. „Lilith Vatore, one of the originals. It was a one-night fling on spooky day. I was raised in Forgotten Hollow but I fled to this town when I was a teen to find my dad. I was still a fledgling though, I burned in the midday sun. Noone ever found me. I became a Ghost and decided to never leave the place of my demise…“

The Blackburn’s were seated in the living room and listened to the tragic story of Lenore. Gemma asked:“But, don’t you ever want to move on? Find peace in the Netherlands?“

Lenore looked to the ground, suddenly seemingly depressed. „I still feel like there’s so much to be done. I‘m not finished with this place. What was the reasoning for my existence? This question haunts me daily…“

They stayed silent for a bit. Then, Aileen proposed:“Well, Lenore, maybe we can help you with that? My husband and I are researching everything about the occult and I know that ghosts have been neglected by the sims, until now. Let us change that. We can publish our findings and honor you in it. That way, your name will be known by many sims. People will remember you for your contribution to our work. Doesn’t that sound good?“

„Me, being featured in a book? That other sims will read?“, Lenore seemed to be speechless for a moment. Then, she turned her gaze to Aileen and asked with slight narrowed eyes:“And what do you want from me, other than my knowledge? There has to be something in this that would benefit you…“

Aileen nodded, staying calm and collected, as she always was. „We need a place to lay low because a crazy spellcaster sage is after us. We live right next door but we can’t cast a protection spell there yet because the Crystal Tree is too small. We hoped coming here wouldn’t be too obvious and the specters coming at night would deter anyone from investigating here“, Aileen explained.

Lenore looked at a painting behind them thoughtfully.

„ Well, you’re definitely safe here from any intruders, the specters are like little guardians of this place. But we could ask Bonehilda, she’s always so helpful! I‘m sure she has an idea how to help you beat that witch. Alright then, if you guys are staying here, we need to hurry up! It’s winterfest eve!“, Lenore declared happily.

The twins sprang up from their seats and started dancing. „Let’s celebrate winterfest! Presents! Presents!“

[windcalling]

Hello! That top-grossing list isn't good evidence for originality (or lack thereof) overall. So I did some analysis on all American films in 2023, 1998, 1973, and 1923.

The thing about the list of top-grossing films is that I'm not surprise it's heavily weighted towards franchise films -- just because more people are going to see them!

I wanted to see if there have been actual changes in overall American film production, so I classified every film in Wikipedia's "List of American films in [year]" lists.

Classifications (in hierarchical order, since a film may be in multiple categories): Remake, Sequel, Franchise, Adaptation, Original

More extensive data & notes below the cut, but without further ado...

THE RESULTS

We do see the proportion of movies original to screen ("original" & "adaptation") decreasing over time

BUT...it's still 80% of movies in 2023!

If you're looking for those original movies? Horror and rom-coms. In every year I looked at except 1998, there was a really clear trend of 1-2 genres with a TON of the original films. 1973 is blaxploitation and cop movies, 1923 is westerns and romances.

So there ISN'T a huge difference in originality of the movies that get made, but there IS a big difference in the breakdown of the top-grossing films by year -- 2023 is the only year with more than one sequel/franchise film in the top 10.

My guess? There isn't a big difference in what films get made, but there likely IS be a big difference in what films are advertised, or shown in easily-accessible multiplex theaters.

But I'm not going to look up advertising budgets. Because THAT would be too much.

Under the cut: more data! detailed breakdowns! fun observations!

Here's the complete breakdown! Sample sizes are 343 (2023), 254 (1998), 202 (1973), 437 (1923).

Edit: And here is the same chart filtered on top 10 highest-grossing films -- top 9 in 1923.

Fun data points:

I combine "original" and "adaptation" above because it's often hard to draw a line between them and because it got at the question posed by OP, but the proportion of non-adaptation original movies is HIGHEST in 2023! Adaptations were highest in 1923!

I think this is because there are more writers aiming at film now than 100 years ago, and the way film ideas are picked up has changed over time.

1923 is all silent movies, and I was surprised by how many are already remakes! But I guess the technology was changing so fast...

1923 also had a handful of adaptations of poetry, which I didn't see anywhere else!

Very surprised by how much porn is in 1973. By which I mean, any porn, but ESPECIALLY porn faintly inspired by Sartre's 'No Exit' -- the "hell is other people" play. (I marked it "original", for reasons I trust are clear.)

Process notes & category definitions:

Some of the movies on Wikipedia's lists were definitely not actually American films, but I didn't do any filtering -- I took the list as it was given

Sequel - to existing film franchise Remake - of a previous visual media property Adaptation - of a play/book/story/etc; didn't usually include when the play/story/etc was written shortly before by the director and was otherwise unknown, probably with the intent of going direct to film Franchise - part of an overarching franchise but not otherwise adapted/sequel; includes e.g. Barbie, Scooby Doo, standalone movies in existing universes Orig - includes biographical, loosely-inspired-by, historical, etc; classifying orig vs adaptation is HARD!

is it me or like, have movies been getting worse?????

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 7

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

WARNING: TW/ the topic of suicide.

First - Prev - Next

CH.7

“You really need to tidy this place up, Stanford. I know you live by yourself, but that’s no excuse to have papers and books scattered around like a dust devil came through.”

“It’s organized chaos, Fiddleford. I know where everything is.”

“And this pile of unwashed laundry?”

“I’ll get to it. Washing clothes is a waste of time, and I’m a busy man.”

“Uh huh, and this pile of unopened letters on your counter? What are all of these, Stanford?”

“Several of our colleagues started sending me letters en masse.”

“And you didn’t open or read them?”

“I received so many at once, it must have been an invitation for a convention. I wasn't interested in attending one at the time. I’ll get to them eventually.”

“These are dated over a year-.”

“Eventually.”

“You’re stubborn as a mule. At least wash your dishes. You’ve been categorizing your notes for the past hour - what are you trying to do?”

“I’m trying to find the definitive event.”

“For Stan?”

“Yes. You said that something extremely traumatic caused the memory loss; if I can identify what event exactly caused this, maybe I can fix this. The problem is, however…”

“Is that you’ve handled the situation in the most extreme way you could think of?”

“No. That isn’t it- and that isn’t true.”

“Mhmmm.”

“The problem is there’s too much.”

“Too much?”

“Trauma. He’s offhandedly mentioned terrible things- even when I met him in town, he had three stab wounds and acted like it was no big deal. And the more we ask, the more we prod, there’s more. The ones we heard were just the ones he was comfortable enough to mention, there has to be worse things he will not or can not speak of. And that thought… scares me, Fiddleford. I knew he wasn’t doing fantastic, but it wasn’t… It wasn’t supposed to be this bad.”

“That’s not your fault Stanford - didn’t you say he left home? It is sad he was too stubborn to ask you or anyone else in your family for help, but I suppose you two have that in common yeah?”

“...”

“I’ll admit that might have been tactless of me- Stanford? What’s- Hey! Hey now, it’s okay! It’s okay- I’m here for you.”

“...Five.”

“What’re you whimpering into your hands, now?”

“Five times. He wrote me a list of people who have tried to kill him in the past. There were thirty names.”

“That’s terrible, but not entirely surprising from what he’s-.”

“He listed himself five times.”

(...)

“How could you be so selfish?”

“I’m a selfish guy, I dunno what you want me to say.”

“Why do you only ever think of yourself?”

“Can’t afford not to. It’s dog eat dog out there, you know.”

“Will you take this seriously?”

“Will you tell me what you’re upset about this time? I can’t read minds, and I’ve known you for four days! Throw me a bone here, PhD.”

“You tried to- to take your own life?”

“Yeah. A couple times. Never succeeded, but that’s the story of my life.”

“Why would you do that? Why would you try something like-”

“Okay I’ve had enough of your judgemental bullshit. I’ve been playing along with your ‘missing twin’ narrative, the least you could do is not fucking go there. I’m a homeless criminal on the run all the time. You tell me why you think I’d want to die sometimes.

Use that big fucking brain of yours for two seconds and think statistics - homeless people kill themselves more than ‘regular’ people, so do prisoners and convicts. You’re both? Oooh boy you’re in for a time. You have to fight to survive all of the time, and sometimes… sometimes you just get so tired, you want to stop fighting you… you just want a break from it all. You want it to just end.”

“Stanley…”

“...”

“...Talk to me. Please. I’m not trying to judge you, I just want to understand.”

"...Let's say I am this mystery twin-"

"You are."

"I'm being hypothetical here, listen. Let's say I am this mystery twin of yours. Specs was saying he didn't even know you had a twin."

"How did-."

"You pressed the mute button, not deafen; I could still hear you. Anyways, your best friend didn't know you had a twin. So to your own best friend you never mentioned 'me' over what, at least 4 years or however long it took you to get a degree? Or in the years that followed? Not even once?

If I'm your twin, I can't have been that important for you to do all of this. I screwed something up, and you don't want me in your life."

"..."

"I don’t know what you're trying to prove here- if you’re going through some guilt or pity or whatever. I'm just some drifter! I don’t have anything, and I don’t have anyone. You shouldn't be wasting your time like this. I'm not worth any of the time or effort you’ve put into this. Even if I was who you think I am. Because that guy? That guy fucked up so badly you didn't think about him for ten years. And I'm just as big of a fuck up."

"Is that... is that what you think about yourself?"

"Stanford, that's all that I know about myself."

*Ford abruptly opens the barred door and walks through the forcefield into the cell*

"Woah woah, I'm not looking for a fight-."

*Ford hugs him, Stan just stands there*

"I wish you called, reached out to me, I-. I wish I reached out."

“...He probably wishes he reached out, too.”

To be continued...