#no no no i will not write more of it no

[wyvernquill]

I am NOT writing a Dreamling Anastasia AU 

  ...but. If I were...

(Edit: I am, find the masterpost here!)

It would not, actually, be a full human AU. The Endless are still Endless, but humanity has risen up against them, to terrible results. Their “domains” are still somewhat intact, so humanity can mostly go on as normal, but the personifications have been torn from them, weakened, have barely any control over them anymore. Their realms have crumbled, their tools are damaged, and they’re in exile...

And Death has offered immortality to whosoever will return her lost brother, Dream of the Endless, to her.

Enter Hob Gadling, vagabond, mercenary, and not very fond of dying as a concept; and Gilbert, a dream who survived the destruction of the Dreaming, and has lived among the humans ever since.

Dream of the Endless has been captured, turned human, and killed. They all know it, everyone does - it would be a pretty story if someone recovered him, a pretty story indeed, finally bringing peace and comfort to his family and the remainder of his subjects, but it won’t ever come true...

...unless someone were to make it true. Of course. Out of pure charitable sentiment, and not for the immortality reward at all.

All Hob and Gil would need is a lookalike they can pass off as “Dream of the Endless forcefully turned human” - and the amnesiac ravenkeeper “Murphy”, misanthropic and eccentric to the utmost, might be just what they’re looking for.

(But the traitor at Dream’s court has not yet given up on destroying him utterly, and is following after them with a razor-sharp knife and three mouths hungry for “Murphy”’s blood...)

---

(A scene I typed out just for funsies, from later in the plot, under the cut - also, tagging @10moonymhrivertam who I believe was interested in this!)

[Context for the scene:

Murphy-pretending-to-be-Dream has already presented himself to Unity, Desire’s Queen Consort, mentioning that he vaguely recalls being saved from captivity by a young guard shattering his glass cage with a sledgehammer. Soon after, he finds out that Hob had ulterior, selfish motives for this plot, and does not take it at all well.]

When Murphy is finally called to stand before the siblings to prove his identity, only Gilbert is accompanying him inside... and he's glad for that. Betrayal rankles in him, the first buds of love trampled brutally underfoot by the man's selfish human cruelty - a lie and a con for immortality! What a low cur! Murphy despises him, and if he does not see him again until 100 years' hence, it will still be too soon.

The Endless siblings await him in a room that seems perfectly cosy, but also painfully small. Beings such as them are made for grand halls, and to see five of them crammed together on a couch and some chairs seems... wrong, almost.

Destiny sits in an armchair hood drawn low, arms curled around the charred and torn remnants of what was once a book. Death sits on the couch, radiating a solemn sort of warmth, while Despair is huddled up next to her, eyes wide and uncertain, with her twin's hand resting protectively on her shoulder from where they are perched on the armrest, the other holding Unity's, who is seated in the second armchair.

("And Despair... oi, Murphy, are you listening?" says Hob's voice in his head, warm with fondness and a broad grin. "Despair was killed but reborn in a new aspect during the uprising. She'll still have all her old memories, though, so remain on your guard even around her."

Oh, those endless lessons. He will never forget a word of them.)

The youngest, Deligh- Delirium is seated on the floor, humming to herself and drawing swirling, colourful patterns onto the carpet. She hasn't as much as looked up at him.

Gilbert steps forward.

"Your Highnesses," he murmurs, politely removing his hat and squishing it in anxious hands. "May I present: Dream of the Endless."

 -

They ask him questions all over again, particularly Death and Desire - hers gentle and probing, theirs sharp and cutting - and Murphy answers as best he can, trying to ignore the longing in those eyes. The hope.

They want, so badly, for him to be something he is not. It is heartbreaking.

And then, finally, Death says "one last test, if you please," and Desire adds, spitefully, "this is the one they all fail," their twin nodding jerkily.

Death calls for Lucienne - ("Lucienne has always been your most faithful servant," Gilbert explains, "a librarian like no other, wise and ever loyal. She remained in the Dreaming, praying for your return, until it crumbled under her very feet...") - and Lucienne strides in.

She freezes, when she locks eyes with Murphy, and there it is again. The flash of hope, quickly tempered, but forever burning.

"The final test." Death instructs her, and with a bow Lucienne sweeps out again, only to return mere moments later with...

 -

...with a raven perched on her arm, white-breasted and fine-boned, dark and keen eyes observing Murphy curiously.

 -

"Jessamy!" He blurts out, and Death nods.

"Jessamy." She confirms, as Lucienne transfers the raven to her. "My brother's trusted companion. Touch her, now, give her a pat - and if she accepts you as her master, we'll know you're really him."

-

(Gilbert feels the tranquil summer day he has in place of a heart sink. This is what it all hinges on, then?

This is something they had no way of preparing Murphy for. No way to influence it. Jessamy will know him for a fraud, that much he is quite certain of, and their game is up, now. Their game is up.)

Murphy rises up, and goes to kneel at Death's feet, on eye level with the raven - and one has to hand it to him, he looks at her so softly, so adoringly, as if she really were part of his mind and soul and heart, the way Matthew is for Murphy, in truth.

He reaches out one trembling hand, all eyes in the room on him.

(Jessamy twitches her wings, gaze fixed on his hand.)

And then he drops it again.

 -

"Jessamy the Raven died as she attempted to rescue me from imprisonment," he says, and his voice echoes, deep and dark as midnight. "Lady Death, you hold an illusion on your arm."

 -

Silence in the room. Nobody dares to as much as breathe.

And then Not-Jessamy squawks, bright and approving - and bursts into hundreds of Delirium's incandescent butterflies, dispersing in the air.

They're all staring at him as Murphy gathers his robes up and returns to his seat.

Death stands. If her gaze was glowing with hope before, it is now like a firebrand on his skin.

"Despair? Bring his tools," she says, too soft to be an order, but with steel underneath it.

Despair scrambles up, and returns in moments with the strange helmet that is the symbol of the Dreamlord's power, and his ruby - cracked, but not broken.

(Gilbert, staring at Murphy as if in a trance, produces the sand pouch, and adds it to Despair's arms. Some thought flickers through his mind that those tools would, all taken together, kill a mere human - but that is not what Murphy is, after all, is he.)

Desire takes the ruby, and drapes the chain over Murphy's neck - and he sees it in their golden eyes, feels it in the tremble of their caress against his neck, that they have never desired anything more than their brother back.

Death takes the sand pouch, and presses it into Murphy's hand, closing his fingers around it with such gentleness - she had thought her beloved brother dead for so many years, dead and gone, and there is relief in every fibre of her being.

And then Destiny sets the scraps of his books aside, and takes the helmet in his hands, bidding Murphy to incline his head so that it might be fitted onto him, and he might recover all his past, present, and future.

 -

Murphy takes a deep breath.

Closes his eyes.

And bows his head.

 -

The helmet slides over his skull as if it was made for him...

And it was.

-

Something changes in the air.

A shifting, like air flowing in to fill up a vacuum.

And something about the-man-who-used-to-name-himself-Murphy changes.

The chapped and broken skin on his hands smooths to the point where his fingertips would not even leave prints; the fabric of his robe sparkles with stars, and floats like mist at nighttime about his form; and when he raises his behelmed head, his spine seems to crack and lengthen, taller now than he was before, too tall and thin to be human.

(Matthew squawks outside the window - and with one beat of his wings he is inside the room, settling on a narrow shoulder.)

 -

Hands that have folded lovingly around so many newly-created dreams and nightmares come up, to lift the helmet off again...

And where Murphy's eyes were a watery blue, Dream of the Endless's eyes are midnight-black, with only a single star each glowing in their depths.

 -

He blinks.

Looks down at his helmet, then up, at the roomful of Endless - his family - all staring at him in something between disbelief and incandescent joy.

"...siblings," Dream breathes, his chest warm and full as it never was when he was human except perhaps when Hob Gadling smiled at him, surrounded now by all of them...

And "BrOTheR!" Delirium squeals in rainbow tones, jumping up from the floor to throw herself into his arms, where she is immediately held.

"Brother," echoes Death, hand over her mouth, tears in her eyes - and then she, too, is folding him in an embrace, and Desire, and Despair, joining... even Destiny rests one wizened hand on Dream's head, tender and brotherly.

Lucienne is crying into a handkerchief from joy, and Gilbert keeps whispering "oh my. oh, goodness. oh my."...

And Dream holds his siblings close to him, home at last.

-

"Robert! Robert!" Gilbert is gasping, having hurried as quickly as he could. "Robert, you will not believe-"

Hob drops his nearly-done cigarette on the ground, grinds it out with his boot.

"And?" He smiles, though it hardly reaches his eyes. "Did they buy it?"

"He's real! Oh, goodness gracious me!" Gilbert rests one hand on his chest, as if to clutch at pearls there. "He is- Robert, he is the true Dream of the Endless! He, he knew that- and when they gave him the tools-"

"Ah!" Now Hob actually laughs. He fiddles for another cigarette, offers the package to Gilbert, who declines with nothing more but a distracted wave. "That. Yes. I knew that."

"You KNEW!?" Gilbert flusters.

"Since the talk with Unity." Hob's lighter takes a few tries to work. Ghastly thing. "It was me, you know."

"I don't follow." Gil blinks.

"It was good work for hired muscle, guarding some prison in a cellar - and they did say that greater rewards were in store. Riches. Fame." Hob grimaces. The cigarette smoke tastes like ash in his mouth, but he takes a drag anyway. "...immortal life. Thought it would be the best work available to me - and it was. But I couldn't stand it, watching him in there."

Hob blows the smoke up into the air, and thinks of a pale, inhuman face behind a glass pane - and then that same face haggard but human, blue eyes twinkling at him with challenge and fondness both.

"I was the guard who took the sledgehammer to Dream's prison. Woke up a few hours later with a splitting headache, and soon enough they were saying they'd killed him when he tried to escape. Quit, ran, and never looked back."

"By Jove!" Gilbert gasps. "Robert! You've saved him twice over, first in the cellar of the Magus - and now! Returning him to his family! Bless you, lad, bless you!"

Hob lets Gilbert grab his hand and shake it enthusiastically, though he can hardly muster up anything more than a weak smile.

"You should- oh, you should come inside! You must tell this story, see Lord Morpheus returned to full form, the siblings shall wish to thank you-" Gilbert babbles joyfully. "And your reward! Of course! Twice earned, my young friend! Twice earned!"

"Hmm. I don't... think I should." Hob carefully ducks out from the arm Gilbert has thrown over his shoulder. "Leave them to their joyful reunion, eh? Give them a little time to breathe before I remind them of... business."

"Ah, but-" Gilbert tries to protest, but Hob is already starting down the street. He should quit smoking - he already nearly has. Only does it when he's stressed, or heartbroken... or both.

 -

He will not bother Dream of the Endless, the man who once was Murphy, with his presence now.

[noperopesaredope]

I wish we had more female characters like Eleanor Shellstrop. One of the most unlikable people you've ever met. Read a Buzzfeed article on most rude things you can do on a daily basis and decided to use that as a list of goals. Makes everyone's day worse just by being there. Dropped a margarita mix on the ground and tried to pick it up, only to get hit by a row of shopping carts which pushed her into the road where she was hit by a boner pill delivery truck, killing her instantly. Cannot keep a romantic partner despite being bisexual. Had a terrible childhood but will die before she gets therapy. Best employee at a scam company. Just the worst but also can't help but root for her to improve.

Absolute loser. Girl-failure. Bad at almost everything. Literally perfect female character.

[catmask]

when u go to write a mentally ill person in ur story you are presented two options. the first option is to write your mental illness realistically as you actually experience it with all the ups and downs and people who are like you will resonate with it and feel seen. except every person who reads instagram infographics on mental health that uses the phrase narcicisst for anyone who does anything that crosses them and unironically call themself a dark empath will call you scary and tell you that youre demonizing mentally ill people

the second option is to lie and write inspiration porn for those people to get hard to

[writeouswriter]

[frownyalfred]

It actually makes a lot of sense that Bruce was one of the few people left standing in the crowd at Haly’s Circus when Dick’s parents died.

Watching two innocent people plummet to their deaths is gruesome. It’s shocking. It can be horribly traumatic, depending on the blunt force trauma of hitting the ground. They might not have died right away. They might have bled and made awful noises that were heard even above the sounds of the crowd.

But Bruce is Batman. Bruce saw his parents get murdered right in front of him. And he knows the sounds and sights of someone dying. He’s hardened himself to stay calm in a situation like that, both through trauma and practice.

I think the image of a young Dick Grayson making eye contact with the one unshaken person in the crowd is chilling. A man standing resolute when everyone else is screaming, sadness etched across his face. But not panic. Not confusion. Resignation, maybe.

[redactedrem]

Headcanon where after so many arguments between the batkids and Bruce over his paranoia and complete disregard for his kids privacy, the entire family had compromised with (in the healthiest way possible) downloading life360 on their phones and that's how they all keep track of each other.

Now Bruce knew that this is mostly for his benefit and is supposed to be a healthy alternative for his unhealthy paranoia and helicopter parenting, but what he wasn't expecting was for his kids to start keeping track of him.

He's putting gas in his car and Dick calls him because apparently Dick has been watching him drive around on the app? And Bruce is currently at a gas station thats right around the corner from a Taco Bell and now Dick wants him to get food for everyone since he's already there.

He's driving home from a meeting and Steph calls him because her and Duke were shopping in the area and wants to know if he can pick them up, when he asks how she knew he was on the same street, he gets a "Oh I just like to stalk everyone on the app for funsies." as an answer.

Jason calls him and he can barely get out a hello before Jason cuts him off, "Bruce why the fuck is your phone battery on 5%, charge your damn phone" which completely stuns him because why does he know that. He clears his throat before answering. "Jason, what?"

"Everyone can see each others phone batteries on '360, now charge your phone." Is all he gets before Jason hangs up on him.

[black-quadrant]

sometimes all you need is one passionate person who goes berserk for your work to keep you creating

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[timelesslords]

thinking about how the hunger games were designed to prove that without society, order, government, someone to rule, we devolve into little more than animals, and how the games themselves prove over and over again that this is not true. We see it in every single game we witness.

Katniss placing flowers around Rue's body in the arena. Thresh sparing Katniss because she was kind to Rue, even though he was making it that much harder for himself to win.

Haymitch going back for Maysilee after hearing her scream even though their alliance had been broken. Haymitch holding her as she dies the same way Katniss did Rue.

Coral's "I can't have killed them all for nothing" when she realizes she's not going home. Lamina cutting down Marcus at great personal risk. And, my favorite moment in tbosas, Reaper collecting the bodies of his fellow tributes, his peers, even the ones who tried to kill him, into a pile. Taking the weapons from their hands. Closing their eyes and crossing their arms in the best approximation of a proper burial he can manage, covering them with the Capitol flag as a makeshift shroud.

The Games bring out the worst in people, yes. But despite the extreme circumstances, despite the exterior pressure of the Capitol, despite the fact that it could mean pain and heartbreak and death, it also shows that people have an enormous capacity for goodness. That even in a situation purposefully designed to make empathy impossible, people can't help but have it anyway.

Snow looks at the Games and all he can see is what's inside himself-- this pure animalistic drive to conquer and defeat. He kills and it feels good and he thinks that everyone else must feel that way too. He doesn't realize (maybe can't realize) that he is the exception, not the rule. He cannot see outside himself, outside his own warped perspective, to realize that the fact that people do show humanity in the games proves his entire worldview wrong.

[crimeronan]

god i wish i wouldn't have to explain the intricacies of the neopets economy to you guys to give the full context for this but. the new neopets team that took over from jumpstart pledged that they were going to curb the inflation of rare items, which is great because a lot of rare items are worth literally hundreds of millions of neopoints, they are unbuyable unless you've been playing actively for 20 years. they did this earlier with a site festival that included random loot boxes, some of which had Unbelievably Fucking Rare And Precious items worth 200 million neopoints apiece.

well.

today they have gone a step further. by releasing this year's trick-or-treat bags. and having the trick-or-treat bags be stuffed to the brim with unbelievably fucking rare stamps, weapons, paint brushes, defense magic, and other unbuyables. (all prohibitively expensive and in-high-demand types of items.)

jellyneo, the premier neopets website, has recorded prices of some items plummeting from 2,000,000 neopoints to 4,000 neopoints IN THE LAST THREE HOURS. this is when most people haven't even heard about the event or OPENED THEIR BAGS YET.

and of course. cherry on top. 20-year-old account holders are crytyping on the site events neoboard about how mean and cruel it is to make rare stamps part of the prize pool, because their entire identity hinges on being part of the neopian bourgeoisie, and they are having MELTDOWNS over their assets being devalued until they're part of the lowly proletariat.

this is a children's game for children btw.

none of the money is real.

i'm having such a good time.

[so-you-read-the-usernames]

Female characters who are the sole voice of reason <<<<<<< Female characters who think of themselves as the sole voice of reason but who are actually just as insane as those around them

[theajaheira]

another cool thing is when you devour a book over the course of a handful of hours and it fucks you up and you just have to lie on the couch feeling like your brain went swimming for too long & only just came up from under the water. art is so good

[lazylittledragon]

if i had a nickel for every au spawned from twitter that i SWORE i was going to be normal about

[codecicle]

Whar does rpf mean 💔💔💔

historians aren't quite sure. Albert Einstein's last words were "rpf is fine" and we've been searching ever since

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.

[octarineblues]

supporting communities & people impacted by the Southport attack and the far-right riots in the UK

here is a list of community fundraisers I found, starting with those aiming to support the Southport community after the appalling attack at a children dance party, to the fundraisers helping those affected by the subsequent racist and Islamophobic far-right/nazi riots

Edited on 5 August to include Middlesbrough fundraisers. Edited on 6 August to correct the link on the Books for Spellow Lane fundraiser, to adjust the name change for the Belfast fundraiser, and to adjust the wording in the second last paragraph.

Southport:

Southport Strong Together Appeal - organised by the community foundation for Merseyside, for those affected by the Southport knife attack

United for Southport families - the funds will be distributed among the nine families of the children who were at the party

Swifties for Southport - a fundraiser for the Alder Hey Children's charity, which supports the victims and the affected families, as well as first responders and clinicians. Extra funds will also support the wider Southport community

Fundraiser for the Southport Mosque - a fundraiser to aid rebuilding or possibly re-locating the Southport Mosque after the damages it suffered during the riots

Rebuilding Windsor Mini Mart - fundraiser to rebuild the locally-owned grocery store that was targeted during the attacks, broken into, and looted

Liverpool:

Fundraiser for the Spellow Hub - the Spellow Hub was broken into, looted and set on fire at night during the riots. The Spellow Hub is a newly created one-of-a-kind (in the UK) institution, which consists of a library as well as a community centre with a mission to help people get education and pathways to work

Books for Spellow Lane - another fundraiser for the library in the Spellow Hub, to replace the books and rebuild the library there edit: included the correct link

Hartlepool:

Fundraiser for the Nasir Mosque - the Nasir Mosque was attacked following Southport riots; this fundraiser is organised by Hartlepool citizens to help the mosque deal with the damages as well as to show appreciation for the role of the mosque in the community. edit: the funds will be also distributed to the local community!

Rebuilding the Farm Shop - the shop was targeted during the riots, and when the owner and his son tried to protect it, they were also violently attacked. The fundraiser is to help fix the damages to the store.

Sunderland:

help rebuild Citizens Advice Sunderland offices after arson - two of the Citizens Advice Sunderland offices were set on fire during the riots, and one of them is completely destroyed.

Hull:

Hull Help for Refugees - a local fundraiser to support the Hull Help for Refugees charity, the donated money will be re-distributed to community members affected by the riots

Fundraiser for Hull Help for Refugees and Welcome House in Hull - collected money will be donated to the two charities

Belfast:

help fix racially motivated damages - originally the fundraiser for the Sahara Shisha Cafe which was targeted by the far right in Belfast during the riots, now a fundraiser for all affected businesses in the area. edited to reflect the change of the name of the fundraiser to avoid any confusion

Middlesbrough:

Supporting residents after the riots - Middlesbrough has suffered so much during the riots, lots of businesses as well as just regular family homes were vandalised, had their windows smashed or even were broken into. This fundraiser wants to distribute the funds between affected people to help them fix the damages, and to generally support the local community. the newest fundraiser, imo potentially the most urgent one

Fundraiser for a Care worker's car which was set on fire - a car belonging to an employee of a care agency was set on fire during the riots while he was on shift at a care home.

If you want to donate locally but there is no fundraiser to support where you live, consider donating to your local charities oriented towards Muslim or PoC communities, or towards anti-racist and refugee organizations! And go support your local Muslim/Arab/Black/Asian/Refugee owned businesses!

If you have any information about other local fundraisers, feel free to add to the post or don't hesitate to let me know and I will add them here! We have seen so much hate in the past few days, we have to stay strong and keep supporting each other!

Stay safe everyone 💛