#it even still has that name

[jess-su-verant]

hi there! are you guys still sending invites to that one lapidot server??

Hi yes we always are! Send me a DM and I’ll send you the rules and the invite :)

This is a PSA: yes the Lapidot discord is still around, yes it’s active, yes you can join!

@annadesu and @jenhedgehog can also extend invites. We’ve been percolating in our own weirdness since 2017 so come join us!

Sometimes we even talk about Lapidot!

[enidtendo64]

TW: Heavily implied Child Abuse

Stowaway AU where Pacifica becomes a stowaway on the Stan-O-War 2 after trying to run away from home to California. Things don’t exactly work out as planned, but at least she’s got a “Summer Internship” away from her parents now!

[scribz-ag24]

idk why people complain about Gates' postgame, i think this scene was very good

edit: here's the original meme btw in case some dont know it

[stealingpotatoes]

it feels like overnight everyone i follow suddenly got into the gay medieval knights game and now it's EVERYWHERE on my dash

[teratomatica]

you always land on all fours

[nudibro]

The lil goobers.

ID text above and below as always :)

[Image 1 ID: An illustration of Leshy and a fan made design of Yellow Cat from the game Cult of the Lamb. The insignia on Leshy's shirt is obscured by his claw marks. Yellow Cat has a maroon button up shirt on with his sleeves rolled up. His blue pants are covered in dirt from his farm work and he wears a straw hat with his curled ears poking out. Leshy is seen taking out one of the cauliflowers from the basket Yellow Cat is carrying. Both of them walk past red barn doors in the background as they talk. Yellow Cat: Now I know it's a big favor-- Leshy: No. Yellow Cat: I'll steal a magnificent meal for you when I come back. Pretty please? Leshy: ... Make it three. Yellow Cat: Deal! Image 2 ID: Leshy sits on the ground with his tail wagging while watering crops with a watering can. The text on the left says: "The favor in question." End ID.]

[emmcfrxst]

jason todd swears like a sailor whenever you ride him. the visual of your body on top of his, the feeling of your hands on his chest and your cunt fluttering around him, the sweet sounds of your moans and mewls— everything about getting ridden makes jason’s dick hard and turns his brain to mush

[starry-bi-sky]

i think i'm hilarious -- aka i made blood blossom danny au memes

all of these come from my DpxDC prompt "i am pushing the batdad agenda--" and it's corresponding additions in the reblogs ksdjlf.

i am. rotating them in my head. forever and always. personally i think there should be more batdad aus in dpxdc, their dynamic could be neat. :)

[bet-on-me-13]

Wes ruins everything

Wes had finally done it, he had finally realized why nobody ever belived him about Fenton and Phantom! It made so much sense now, he had been looking for an answer for years, thinking he was going crazy because everybody refused to see the Obvious!

He was Cursed!

He literally had an Ancestoral Curse on his Bloodline that made it so that all those born with the gift of Prophecy would be ignored! A Gift of Prophecy that he apparently had.

It was Cassandra's Curse, the one from Greek Myths. Apparently she was his Great×1000 Grandmother and passed down the Gift (and Curse) of Prophecy to him. And he knew how to break it!

All he needed to do was gather the right resources, chant the correct incantations, make sure not to accidentally summon a Demon in the process, and he could just foist the Curse onto some other poor schmuck. Sure it would suck for them, and he would loose his Gift of Prophecy, but Wes had been ignored for Years at this point, he needed validation!

So he did the Ritual, and he didn't mess it up, and he managed to get rid of the Curse.

Now all he had to do was convince everybody that he was right for the first time in his life! This was going to be great!

...

Cass didn't know what was going on.

A while ago, she had started getting these...gut feelings that she couldn't explain.

She would look over the details of a Case her Family was working on, and see a patern that the others were seemingly ignoring. Like when she realized that The Penguin was about to raid the Docks on the East Side, but the others were convinced it was going to be on the West.

But when she had tried to tell them, they had brushed her off. "We've already concluded that he will begin the Raid on the West side, no need to go to the East."

She had gone anyways, and low and behold she had been right. But nobody even acknowledged that she had been right at all, they had just wondered how they had missed the signs, not even questioning how she had known.

It wasn't limited to Cases either. Even small things, like telling her brother's where the TV remote was were brushed off, and hours later they would still be looking, never even having checked where she told them.

It seemed that no matter what, nobody cared about her point of view anymore. They kept brushing her off, telling her she was wrong, actively ignoring her ideas.

And it was getting worse. They were starting to ignore her more and more, forgetting she was in the room, not calling her down for Dinner, even forgetting to check in on her during Patrol.

She knew that there must be something going on, Magical or otherwise, but when she tried bringing it up with her Dad or JLD, they would also Brush her off.

Her Family was forgetting her. And they didn't even realize it.

...

Danny was not okay at the moment.

When he had gone to school a few weeks ago and noticed everybody staring at him, he didn't give it much thought. Maybe Dash or Paulina had spread another Rumor about him again, not too out of the ordinary.

When his name had been called over the Intercom, he hadn't thought much of that either. His grades were falling even more than usual, so he assumed his Guidance Counselor wanted to have another talk with him.

When he walked into the Principals Office to see both of his Parents and some GIW Agents, that's when he realized something big must have happened.

He didn't have much of a chance to react when the Shields went up, but he did react when the first Ecto-Blast scorched the wall behind him. His Parents began to scream at him as they fired their Blasters, something about replacing somebody? He didn't know, he was pretty preoccupied at the moment.

It took more effort than he cared to admit to escape the Room, but a stray shot to the hidden Shield Projector under the Principals Desk proved to be his saving grace. Unfortunately the moment he escaped the Office, he was met with a veritable Army of GIW Agents, all armed to the Teeth with Weapons he had never even seen before.

He managed to get away for a moment, hiding in the Bathroom as the Agents chasing him passed it by. That's when he met Wes.

He obviously hadn't been expecting him, but the moment he saw him Wes put on a smug look. "Oh hi Fenton, trying to get away from the other students?"

Danny had replied with confusion, "What the hell are you talking about?!"

"I finally managed to convince everybody about you, now everyone knows that you're Phantom! I'll bet you're hiding from all of the other Students hounding you for questions right?"

"...it was you?"

"Yeah, so? I finally get to be right!"

"...You absolute MORON-"

That was the last Danny got to say to Wes before an Ecto-Blast launched him through a Wall, seeing his face morph into a look of Shock just before the dust cloud covered it up.

Since that day, Danny had been on the Run. Nowhere was safe anymore now that the GIW knew both his Human and Ghost's faces, but he had to keep running. He crossed state Lines already, and was on his way to the next Ecto-Rich City he could sense, somewhere in New Jersey.

He cursed his Fenton Luck every day. Why had everybody believed Wes this time?! Nobody had ever belived him before, nobody even seemed to acknowledge his existence after a while! What had changed?

Danny just wanted to rest already.

...

Cass had taken to Patrolling alone recently. She had taken to doing a lot of things alone, actually.

After the first month, it seemed that nobody could remember that she was in the room with them, even if she was within their eyeline, she just faded into the background. By the 2 Month Mark they had stopped talking to her entirely, although occasionally she would get a Text or two from her dad. By the 3 month Mark she was completely invisible, and By the 5th she had been forced to get used to it.

She didn't know what was going on, was it a Meta Ability? Magic? Alien Tech? She had no idea.

She had begun to cook for herself after the first time Alfred forgot to set her Plate at the Table. The same with Washing her own Clothes, Cleaning her Room, and Paying her Phone Bills. At the very least the Automated Allowance Payments to her Account had kept up, or she wouldn't have been able to go to her favorite Cafe anymore.

It was bittersweet for her. She used to go to that Cafe every week with Alfred, but he didn't even come on his own anymore. Had he only come for her? Did she really mean that much to them? It hurt, she finally had a family that cared for her and suddenly she didn't exist to them.

She sat alone at a Table, ignored by everyone in the Cafe as usual, when a new face walked in. He looked about her age, a little roughed up, walking with a sort of cautious gaint, as if he was scared of something. His Body Language seemed to agree with her assessment, as his body practically screamed "Worry" in its movements.

Cass stopped watching at that point. Just another Gotham Teen, probably worried over something like getting not having enough money or getting mugged on the way home. It was a Common sight in Gotham.

She attention was pricked again for a moment when she heard a voice speak up. "Uh, can I sit here?"

She ignored it, he wasn't talking to her.

"Um, excuse me? Miss? Could I sit here?" He repeated.

She ignored him again, he wasn't talking to her. Nobody talked to her.

"Hello? Do you have Earbuds in?" He said, and he waved his hand in front of her face.

Her face. He waved his hand. In front of Her Face.

He was talking to her.

She looked up at him sharply, seeming to startle him for a moment before he asked, "So, is that a no?"

"You can see me?" She asked.

He looked a bit bewildered, but replied "Uh, yeah? Why would I not? Are you...a Ghost?". That last part sounded a bit suspicious.

"No. Not a Ghost. But nobody sees me. Ever. Nobody remembers me." She replied. She had never spoken this much to anybody outside of her Family, but in the past few weeks she had been starved for interaction.

He seemed slightly interested, and sat down at her table. He looked her in the eyes, and said "Do you...talk about it?"

She smiled. He could see her.

[lollipopmixclo9]

The chapter scene that got me hooked on the story

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Highest Bidder

[bluerosefox]

Gray and Graysons

One of the Bats has a secret. Something they never told to the others.

They were so very young but they have memories of a sibling, so small and tiny. They remember the burst of warmth they had in their heart when they held the tiny baby for just a moment.

But they weren’t allowed to keep them, their family couldn’t raise them. Money was tight, just enough for three but not for four, despite their shows always bringing in a crowd it was getting harder and harder for the world to be wowed by them in the new age and their sibling was too small and tiny and needed to be cared in a single place than for them to be on the road. Their lifestyle was not good for his tiny sibling apparently.

They had to watch as their parents gave his sibling away to people in suits, them promising to give his baby brother to a loving family when they find a ‘home’ for him. He watched his parents try to be strong only for his mother to break down once the car left down the road, his father holding her and apologizing, the rest of the circus troupe all silently coming over to give the heartbroken family condolences.

Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson had tears running down his face when he last saw his baby brother.

A brother he got to name before he had to be given away.

Daniel ‘Danny’ Grayson.

-x-x-

Dick never told the others. If anyone dug deep into his past they might find his brother’s birth records maybe, if someone got around to digitizing the paperwork for him but given the fact he was placed in the US childcare systems just a few days after his birth and the fact that Dick was still pretty young they most likely believed he didn’t remember his baby brother now. Not after so many years.

But they were wrong, Dick remembers. And he kept the secret close to his heart and memories.

And the only physical evidence he had was a single picture of him holding his brother, a smile on his tiny face towards their father who had taken the photo of them together. When he had lost his parents, lost most of the things that connected him to them, to his past in the circus that had been his whole life, had been taken from him in Gotham’s ruthless childcare system, he held on tight to the picture in secret. Hid it away from anyone trying to rip it from him, hid it from Bruce when the man took him in days later, hid it from Alfred despite how gentle the butler was towards him. He couldn’t, wouldn’t risk losing his photo at the time, he hadn’t trusted anyone and by the time he did he didn’t have the heart to reveal it.

So yes, the existence of his baby brother Danny was his most guarded and best kept secret.

So that’s why Dick, as Nightwing, nearly died from a heart attack when leaving a Justice League meeting he spotted a familiar face among one of the new engineers working in the Watchtower.

It was like seeing a young version of himself. Only, Dick could see that the young man was more than a copy of him, so much more than a clone. He held many traces of John Grayson but also had a bit more of Mary Grayson than Dick did. Small details that Dick foggely remembers taking note when he had held his baby brother.

“Hey, hurry up with that report Gray!” Shouted the head engineer from down the hall, his hand beckoning the young adult to come over.

“Coming! And boss, I told you Danny is fine!” Danny shouted back before hurriedly leaving a stunned Nightwing.

[5mcsinatrenchcoat]

To whomever it may concern: Karlach without make up (and with scars). Bless the modders.

[chronologically-challenged]

Siffrin: Hey, Stardust, any ideas for this loop?

@chipper-smol This is how I picture the start of 80% of their conversations going after awhile in role reversal au.

[thorough-witness-enjoyer]

The contrast between the Conductor’s reaction to the Collapse and Lodi’s reaction to it continues Destiny’s focus on how to overcome monumental grief in a manner that creates a brighter future. It has already said so much without really saying anything explicitly. (Grief inspired ramblings incoming)

There aren’t enough words to describe how much ruin the Witness has brought to the universe, let alone Sol during its Collapse. There is no recovering what was lost when it unleashed absolute hell onto the solar system, the effects of which the people in-universe will be feeling for who knows how long. It was an act most vile and the sorrow felt by those affected is unimaginable.

However, just because the Golden Age stolen from Sol cannot be recovered, doesn’t mean that the residents of Sol have no future, and I strongly believe that in Edge of Fate both Maya and Lodi are used to show how different people react to that prospect.

Maya directly experienced the Collapse and it took everything from her. Not only the world as she knew it and the fruits of her scientific pursuits, but the life she wanted to live with Chioma.

This grief eats away at Maya like a festering rot and it drives the Conductor to rash, inconsiderate actions because the present as-it-is has no value to her compared to the past as-it-was.

Her involvement with the Nine and the vex is all part of an attempt to use time to bring the Golden Age forward and the City Age with its guardians to the Collapse. At first consideration, there is clearly an ethical and logistical issue here, but I’m going to focus on her intentions to recover.

Maya can’t stop looking back because she cannot see any way forward for humanity in the state she’s in. Her pain is held onto so tightly and she refuses to accept anything that isn’t her “perfect moment” before her life with Chioma was taken from her by the Witness; it makes her blind to just how fortunate humanity is to have anything at all and that by defeating the Witness with our allies, we have the rare possibility to become more than we ever were.

The Conductor diminishes the value of present lives and people, comparing them to lead against the golden humans centuries ago, not entirely from internal bias for a technological age, but from grief.

There is no future she could ever imagine that would fulfill her like her past with Chioma. No matter how far humanity comes, no matter how much we progress, it’ll be nothing because she won’t have her Chioma.

Grief refuses to allow you to let go by keeping idealize memories at the forefront of your head. To grief, there is nothing quite like the past and there will never be anything more valuable than what you once had. The world and more is a fair price to pay for a chance to revisit the moment time is rapidly racing away from because grief is all about hindsight.

There is safety in memories, in an unmoving mental state you can return to time and time again when time and it’s cruelty is shifting under your feet like sand pulled by waves. Grief stings, but it is also sweet in its stagnancy; sweet enough for you to mindless indulge as it hardens around you like an amber prison.

We’ve learned from the last saga that darkness is related to memory retention, for better or for worse, and Maya’s interaction with the Veil has clearly left an impression on her. An obsession and commitment to memories can trap us in our pain, preventing us from growing and forgiving as we fear more suffering coming from the hard work needed to overcome our grief.

By dwelling on what she no longer has, by imprisoning herself in the Golden Age where her life is as perfect as her mind makes it, she’s blinding herself to what she has now.

And what she has now is considerably more than what Te’Qal in her echo was left with.

Humanity can rebuild itself. With the persistence and hope we’ve held onto since the Collapse, dreams held within innovation can be ours once more, this time with security from knives whetted over eons.

There is no hope for the Qugu. There is no future for Seht. There will never be dreams or safety for the countless who have been eradicated by the Witness and its forces.

What is lead to Maya would be gold for the Qugu.

Grief is telling Maya that there is nothing more valuable than what she once had, but she fails to realize that what she has now is beyond miraculous and worthy of the utmost devotion.

Devotion that Lodi has shown an interest in committing too.

Here we have a man ripped from all he has ever loved and informed that everything he could have ever loved was smoldered between thousands of fingertips, but instead of turning around and using his voice to beg for the past to return to him, he’s using his voice to speak of what can be learned from the past to better humanity’s current state.

He’s certainly grieving and the pain he’s feeling about his life all the way back in the 20th century will never be an easy thing to deal with, but he refuses to let being a slave to the past hold him back from being an asset to the future.

This line after he lists things he remembers from his life is incredibly profound, yet so simple. Remembering the past is not about preserving it exactly how it was, but taking it with you as time pushes you forward and letting it adapt with the reality you are faced with.

Lodi uses his knowledge as both a person from an age long gone and as a linguist to pass on his knowledge to City Age humans, hoping we will be able to teach it to others and build off of it. He thinks of the hundreds of cities, billions of people, thousands of cultures, and he says “we can have beyond that if we start working towards that”.

Dancing salsa and making ceviche is not what Maya thinks of when she thinks of what made humanity great, but it’s things like dancing salsa and making ceviche that makes humanity humanity. They have value because they meant something in the past and they can mean something again because Lodi has the courage to teach it to us.

Furthermore, he’s appreciative of what humanity still has in its current state and wants to learn from us, combining our knowledge to form a deeper, greater understanding than what we had previously.

Love is a wonderfully terrible thing that requires from us more than what we have. It’s changing, it’s grievous, it’s hard work. It requires us to let go, to love more than just the object of our affection. Love in memory is sweet and only asks what we have to give.

Maya loves Chioma, but to properly love her, she must let go. She must love humanity and its Sol system as Chioma sought to understand and explore it, even if it is a bitter reminder of everything she has lost.

Lodi loves his family, he always speaks about them and their influence on him; thus, he loves humanity and is willing to sacrifice his autonomy to protect it, even as memories of Ben and his parents torment him at night.

There’s a hand-weaved basket in my house that will forever remain unfinished. The practice of it has been forgotten in my family as there is no one left to teach it. I’ve sat where the weaver used to sit every day and used every ounce of my being to bring the memory of them to me, but as much as I thought day after day “they are still here. They just came inside with pieces of palm and they are in front of me making a new basket like they always have. They just asked if I prefer the stripped ribbon or the plain blue one. They asked if I think they could go shopping with it.” I cannot make it true.

What I can do is go back to their home and ask someone to teach me. I can find someone who keeps the practice alive and learn from them. I can teach it to someone else once I am proficient enough and hope that they may continue to pass it on to those who have yet to come.

I’m not going to dig my feet in the ground and keep looking back at the weaver at the table. I’ll never forget them and I’ll never stop missing how their own hands used to work meticulously at that table, but I refuse to let grief blind me to the fact that I have my own hands and a life of basket weaving ahead of me.

I’ll learn to weave as best as I can. I’ll weave things my weaver could have only imagined and I’ll make the real future better than any idealized past.

It would be so much easier to just have them back here with me, weaving like they always have. I wouldn’t have to worry of all the failed baskets I’m sure I’ll make, of all the waves of grief that’ll come crashing down on my grip. I wouldn’t have to worry if I’ll ever weave as good as they did or if the type of weaving our small island does will survive the coming decades. It would be so much easier to live in that perfect when rather than face the flawed now.

But I’ve let go of hoping that they’ll somehow come back because waiting for them to come strip the palms keeps me from appreciating how much their bark has grown back since my weaver’s been gone and using it to make a basket for my younger family member.

I love my weaver, always will, and thus I love their home, their legacy, their art, even when it leaves me raw and screaming.

Basket weaving and speaking Welsh might be dead just like Earth once was after the Collapse, but we can always rebuild them by promising to keep looking forward no matter how hard it is. We can chose to be Lodi, even when it is so tempting to remain as Maya is. The Last City of Earth can become the First City and we can grieve those before us all while cherishing those alongside us.

Lodi means a lot to me. He really does.

[starlingfawn]

slowly falls, slowly dies, slowly it crumbles right under my eyes

@jumalanpelko