We cannot just wholesale get rid of historic terms and words that racist/sexist/queer phobic/colonist etc.
We shouldn’t use them in our everyday language and keep perpetuating the problem. But you can’t discuss things in history or discuss violent and discriminatory things in that history if you just delete words.
For example, we might never and should never use slurs in our own vocabulary but how on earth are we supposed to look into history analytically, critically or creatively if terms or slurs that were used historically by average people and oppressive groups is forbidden territory
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the older i get and the closer i am to reaching 30, the more the people around me try to deny me my age. it’s a constant ‘oh you’re just turning 29 again teehee 🤭’ or ‘dont tell your SO that, he’ll leave you for a younger model 😉’ and i just???? hate it?????????
i spent my entire teenaged years fighting for my life. i crawled through the deepest pits of my depression to cling to the promise of a life beyond that pain. i was so convinced that i was going to die young, that i would never see the grace of my age starting with a 2, let alone 3.
so im going to turn 30, and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do to stop me from loving it.
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no offense but if your friend is trying out a new hobby be fucking nice to them
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I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt
“Woah. You look like shit."
Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.
The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.
"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."
And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.
The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.
If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.
"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.
"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.
"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.
The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.
He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."
There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.
"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."
Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"
"Daniel? Is that you?"
His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.
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Peter: Wait- so that’s James’ jacket??
Regulus: Yes??? There’s literally the letter ‘P’ on it. Where in merlin’s name would there be a ‘P’ in my name?!
James, walking past: In ‘Potter’ when we get married.
Regulus:
Peter:
The entirety of Hogwarts:
(Regulus hyphenates their names.)
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It’s interesting finally starting a show that’s been cancelled because I often gauge how much I liked it by how pissed off I am that’s it’s been cancelled
In this case it’s dead boy detectives and oh. I am so mad. This show is literally built for longevity. You would never run out of cases for the boys to solve. There is so much lore to pull big bads from. And the characters are so good and they carry the show so well. You had literal gold served to you on a platter and you cancel it???
Anyway. I loved the show very much and I am incredibly bitter. Netflix it is on site
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As a writer who doesn't often read other fics because of personal preferences, but also to focus on my own and spend a lot of time writing something completely to my own exact tastes instead I gotta ask
(This is specifically about long-fics, but short fics can work too)
Personally, I have specific preferences/squicks that make it hard for me to read certain things and prefer to write what I like instead of looking for it in other places (That's not to say that it can't be found! I just find writing it to be a lot more satisfying)
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Danny got out.
Danyal al Ghul was created by the League of Assassins alongside his brother Damian.
Created, not born. Though they were both grown in the same lab, Danyal always felt the status quo. Damian was the heir, the real son, the one they cared about. Damian got to be a person, the one for whom human terms like “born” would fit.
Danyal was just the extra. The bodyguard to die in his brother’s place and a spare should he be lost.
And Danyal died.
Shed his old life like a snake’s skin and vanished into the bustle of a crowded city.
They would tell Damian it was a mission that went wrong. A failure, like Danyal always was.
But Danyal would call it his first real success.
Danny Fenton loves their new life.
Jack and Maddie, for all their unsafe work practices, care for them. That’s far more than their blood “family” in the League ever did.
Far more than they felt they deserved for the longest time.
So when their brother reached out, tried to reconnect as if they were normal siblings instead of born tools, is it any wonder they lashed out, told him to never come back?
Danny got out. Danyal is dead, one ghost Danny is happy to put down forever.
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