₊ ⊹Be Sapphic₊ ⊹

And who helped me with that? Not people calling for some nebulous revolution. Not people telling me that the system was useless. Not people preaching at me to grow my own food. It was a church food bank partially funded by the state of Texas that some southern hippies donated a bunch of Whole Foods nonsense to.

And you know what? I’m sick and tired of defeatism. What can we get done right now, huh? Are you gonna accept something a bit better to help people right now or are you waiting for your perfect utopia to come to you?

six years later, after tentatively reconciling with his thought-dead seventeen year old crime lord brother, Jason gets slightly tipsy while sneaking drinks during a family event and proceeds to drunkenly tell Dick in front of the whole family about how scared he’d been to meet him after Bruce had first taken him in, because he wasn’t sure if Dick would remember him from when he was eleven and beat Dick across the face with a wooden bat so Jason could mug him on the side of the road. Jason is too drunk to understand the bomb he has just dropped and everybody stares at a frozen Dick in silence as he comes to the realisation that Jason was the little fucker that had stolen his wallet all those years ago.

Jason, on a medical table for the twelfth experiment that day: how do we even know it was me, though?

Ra's: what do you mean?

Jason, shrugging: like- maybe i was just in a magic coffin. maybe it had nothing to do with me, maybe it was my environment. have you ever read the book 'pet cemetery'?

Ra's:

Ra's: *squints deeply*

Ra's: no. if it was the graveyard then you wouldn't be the only person that came back to life. you're being ridiculous.

Jason: i dunno. maybe it was just that one specific patch of grass.

Ra's:

Ra's: hm.

Bruce finds out Jason came back to life way earlier than planned because halfway through patrol he gets an alert of a disturbance at Gotham Cemetery and when he and Tim get there it's to see Jason and Ra's in the dark with headlamps on next to Jason's now dug-up grave, dirt everywhere as Jason holds a shovel and Ra's holds the corpse of a dead chicken over the hole, ready to lower it, surrounded by league assassins either standing guard or holding notebooks and pens for if something actually happens and Ra's wants to take notes.

10,000+ fake fics already?

and we're not even counting the ones that the supposed 'author' (llm users aren't real writers: hate me all you want, doesn't change the fact) hasn't disclosed as gen ai. same goes for fan art.

to that i say. begone @ wanna-be fic makers, spammers, baiters, fools, and stealers. try to create your own paragraph, support improving accessibility, then talk to us again. we're losing both skill sets and the ancient texts at a rapid rate smh